Drainage, by John
by JCoops
Summary: The mystery of one man's life, the intrigue of Fallout. The Desolation of the Wasteland. Enjoy a snippet of the life of one man in the Wasteland, unabridged, and undiminished by wishful thinking.
1. Beginnings of a Trader

Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout, but i do own all of the characters in this story, at least in this chapter. Probably the rest of the as well. Except the Brahmin, Bethesda owns them

**Drainage was a small, easily forgettable town**

Drainage was a small, easily forgettable town. A trader had once come through, 13 seasons before, and had proclaimed to Drainage it stood in the proud suburbs of what had once been a great city, called New Bork. He had sold New Bork merchandise, and people ate it up. The people of Drainage were not especially foolish, knowing that the city of millions that the trader had spoken off was clearly a child's dream, however, they had a kindred spirit for adventure and mysticism, and the picture that the trader had painted of the city was so fantastic, that the inhabitants of Drainage felt compelled to purchase as much of this mythical land as they could get their hands on.

Whilst hardly a powerhouse economy, due to Drainage's location as a slightly fertile land, starvation and de-hydration, very real dangers in the desolate wastes, Drainage had managed to sustain itself over the years, becoming more and more isolated from the increasingly tribalistic settlements that had grown from the dredges of humanity. There were rumours that there was another large settlement many days to the East, but that had only been from the tribals, and everybody knew that they were not to be trusted. Although numerous exploration parties had set out from Drainage with the intention of finding these other settlements, those that had returned only brought stories of hardship and terror. Stories of mythical beasts and murderous people kept many people from wishing to leave the relative safety of the settlement. A trader from a great many seasons past had traded most of the town's mineral wealth and jewellery that it had accrued over the years for a small supply of weapons and ammunition. A standing guard kept the weapons maintained and also upheld the defences of Drainage. Whilst incursions were few in numbers, a few people had been carried off into the night, either by packs of rabid dogs attacking children, or hunting parties of tribals snatching people away.

The culmination of this was that Drainage produced many able-bodied farmers, with hopes and dreams of taming the wasteland and exploring its boundaries, seeking fame and glory, but in reality, just became hardy farmers. However, John was different. From birth, even his name was an anomaly. Most of the town's inhabitants were named after the seasons, or virtues or hopes of the family. Names such as Fertility, Spring, Hope, Moonlight, Harvest and Evergreen were common among the townsfolk. However, John's father, Calf, had been so enraptured by the traders that used to frequent the town, that he had named his firstborn after one of them. John's mother, Spring, had berated Calf about the name, and Calf promised a much more conventional name for their second child. Noble was born a strong boy, and he and John quickly created a bond, through many hours of tugging hairs and pushing down roads, that found them inseparable. As they were only born a few seasons apart, sibling tension and rivalry had taught both brother's how competitive and fierce the outside world could be.

It came when John expressed his interest, at an early age that he wished to become a trader, and widen the knowledge of the town. Many young boys expressed this interest, and it soon died down when they heard stories of what life was really like in the outside world. Instead of their dreams of mountains and gold and glory, they learnt of the 4 armed menaces which stalked the night, and the tribals which ate small children for breakfast and slept with their dogs. Most children cowered in fear at the mention of these stories, but John's eyes always widened in curiosity when the old tales were being told.

However, John knew that he would probably never be able to leave the settlement. His place was with his family, tending to their farm, and helping his brother out in the field. Had his brother not gone off the rails, then John would have spent the rest of his life working in his father's field's, no doubt creating a family of his own. The problem was Kite. One of the tribals had started to deliver it, in weekly shipments. All traders were welcomed into the village, and this tribal, with his heavy piercings and facial tattoos was greeted in wonderment by the people of Drainage. He proffered medicines in return for food, which his tribe greatly needed. The town thought it was their moral duty to help the tribe, and of course, medicines were always in short supply.

Therefore, the tribal began to trade with the town more frequently. Drainage had no shortage of food, and the medicines were more and more sought after. Kite cured the scorpion poison, huge beasts that had claimed many lives when it stalked the fields that the farmers toiled on. However, those cured started exhibiting strange behaviour. They demanded more Kite, creating ailments, some even going to the extent of attempting to be stung by the scorpions again, just to get another hit of the drug. Obviously, it was addictive, so the town elders banned it straight away. However, the tribal had made contacts inside the town, and was still able to smuggle in dribs and drabs of Kite. Although the town was not large, only a few hundred inhabitants, people kept to themselves, as many hardy folk tend to do. Therefore, it meant that when addiction to Kite became quite rampant, it took many weeks before the final traces of Kite was ultimately extinguished from the town.

However, coming off drug addiction is never an easy process. Many of the town's inhabitants complained of strange dreams and fevers, they would wake in the night screaming for Kite, as if it was the only thing that could save them. Some went even further, such as Noble. He told his family that he could not live without Kite, and would leave the town if they did not procure it for him. His family laughed this off as drug fuelled psychosis getting the better of Noble. They were exceedingly shocked, therefore, when Noble could not be found the next morning. Apparently, he had scarpered off during the night, taking all of his belongings that he could muster together in his shaking hands, and had gone out of a small hole in the perimeter.

Of course, John volunteered immediately to go after his brother, whom he cared for very much, however, both his family and the elders were against it. So the months past, and Noble was never heard from again.

This stimulated John's need to leave Drainage. On his 18th birthday, he put it before his family and the town elders that he be allowed to leave, creating a caravan to explore the wastes. His parents were shocked, feeling humiliated that their son, their only son, was still harbouring such preposterous ideas, at his age. However, John began to win them over to his side, explaining that it was a lack of knowledge of the wastes, and their ignorance of the various societies that surrounded the town, which had caused the Kite addiction in the first place. His argument was listened to, and he was told to leave the family and the elders to think over his proposal, and he would be informed of their decision in the morning.

When he aroused, thick-headed after drowning his sorrows in the disgusting ale that the town produced, finding solace at the bottom of the mugs, he dragged on his clothes. The practical, grey, drudgery that characterised the whole of Drainage could be summed up in the clothes that they wore. No colours were permitted, local tailors informed that they could only use base shades, in case too much colour distracted people from their jobs of farming and small-scale manufacture. People ghosted around the town, in various colours tints of brown and black, the odd green causing a stir and a muttering of elderly heads.

John made his way outside, and was greeted by one of the younger children running down the street proclaiming that a great gathering was afoot, and that everyone should meet in the town square. John's curiosity was piqued, and he set forth with full haste towards the town centre. When he arrived he saw all of the assembled elders, and many of the powerful agricultural leaders of the town congregating on the large platform, sometimes used for punishment, but more often used to herald a large town meeting. The youngest of the elders, a man of only 7 or 8 dozen seasons, stepped forward and addressed the meeting.

"John, son of Calf and Spring, has put forward the idea of a creation of a caravan, to service the needs of Drainage. Though we have prided ourselves on our ability to stay separate from the workings of the outside world, the time for isolation has come to an end. No longer, as the Kite tragedy has highlighted, can we live in ignorance of the workings of those around us. We must set in place tendrils of trade and knowledge, to allow us to grow and flourish as a town. We elders think that John should set this process in motion, as he was the one so eager to initiate it in the first place. Therefore, we ask that a cohort of townspeople, those who do not have family needs that mean they have to stay at home, volunteer to join this caravan. They would be leaving everything behind in Drainage, setting out in an adventure the likes of which has never been attempted by our fledgling civilisation. We ask any volunteers to step forward"

There was a silence from the crowd, as nobody was willing to risk the relative comfort and sanctuary of the town to visit the harsh and unforgiving wasteland around them. Finally, after many seconds of leering silence, a voice rose amongst the crowd.

"Fine, I'll try it." The voiced belonged to Justice, a heavy set man, a few years John's senior. He was quiet, preferring life in the fields to life in the unknown. It was the least likely person that John would have thought would want to join his motley crew. However, his arm was strong, if a little untrained. As life was so peaceful in Drainage, most of the time, most people did not know how to fight. Of course, the odd scuffle broke out between children, but the adults were always quick to sever such connections to violence, knowing the devastation it can wrought if left unchecked. Therefore, although the town held a small, semi-permanent guard, that infrequently patrolled the streets, and acted as constabularies in times of crisis, and the fields did lend muscle to the arms of those that worked on them, Drainage had not produced any warriors of repute. Therefore, although Justice would be a great asset to John in his journeys, John suspected that his strength would only be useful in loading and unloading the caravan.

Justice's girlfriend, Summer-Peace was horrified by his decision.

"No, he does not want this! You know how impulsive he can be, do not accept his decision."

The elders looked sternly on this. "Justice, are you of sound mind, and a rational disposition when you state you want to join John on his potentially fatal quest as a caravaneer?"

"I am elders. I have known John for many years, and respect his curiosity and strength of character. Therefore, I would be glad to aid him on his journey."

"As you will. Is there anybody else that will join this entourage?"

Another uneasy silence rose amongst the townspeople, shocked by Summer's outcry. Justice began to stroll over to John, and clasped his shoulder.

"Looks like it is just me and you John"

There was a sigh from amongst the crowd. A middle-aged woman stepped forward.

"These children can neither count nor organise. They couldn't manage a gnat shitting on a heap. I'll accompany them, until they obtain these skills"

The voice came from Winter-Shroud. She controlled much of the town's economy, dictating how much can be used to feats with, and how much should be rationed. John knew he would probably direly need her, if he was to become a successful caravaneer. As she had stayed single all of her life, apart from her friend tugging at her sleeve for her to stay, which she quickly batted off, nobody brooked any argument to her leaving.

"You will be missed by the town Shroud, but we think it is for the best" the elders mumbled.

Before another awkward silence could befall the crowd, one of the elders rose. "Dignity, perhaps you would like to join the caravan" A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. Dignity had been blight on the town since he could walk. Always stealing tings, getting under people's feet. It was no surprise that the elders were using this opportunity to get rid of him. A menace, that could help nobody, but John reasoned that he could use every hand he could. Dignity rose, from his position at the back of the crowd, and skulked towards John. Although his parents lamented his leaving, even they breathed a subtle sigh of relief at watching him go and make something of himself.

"I have been talking with my father, and he say that I can go, if you will let me?"

The voice was small and shy, belonging to Valour, a young boy. His father had made a name for himself as a talented farmer, and had something of a vaunted position within the village. That he was ashamed of his son was common knowledge. Though Valour tried hard to follow in his father's footsteps, he could not grasp the concepts of the plough and the seed. His mind was always concentrating on more abstract matter, observing birds in the sky, or other children playing games, though never joining in with them. That he had volunteered for such a daunting adventure stunned many in the crowd, and the quiet murmurings began to rise to the surface again. Justice saw this about to happen and raised his voice above the murmurs.

"We would be glad to have you on board with us Valour, wouldn't we John?"

Jon hesitated, was about to argue, then thought better of it. "Of course, welcome on board Valour"

Without delay, another figure walked to the front of the, now not inconsiderate, crowd.

"They are going to need somebody to look after the Brahmin aren't they?"

Humility was the master of the stable. He took care of all matters relating to the breeding and maintenance of these beasts. It was his job to make sure that each fall, there were enough animals to collect the seed from the field, and enough in Spring to replant them again.

"No Humility, we cannot allow that, you are too valuable" the wisest elder rose, and spoke firmly. "Perhaps there is somebody"

"Of course elders, I wasn't going to suggest myself, I am much too old to go gallivanting into the wastes. My daughter, Sunset, knows at least as much about Brahmin as I do, and has an intuition with the animals I could only hope for."

Sunset walked forward with her father, her slight frame dwarfed by her father's huge proportions. She had never talked to the other children, always preferring animals for company. Although she wasn't attractive, to pudgy and plain for John's taste, her free-spirit and hippy lifestyle had gained her a few admirers in the town. He was sure they would be glad to see her go.

"I am sure she will be more than adequate, thank you Humility" the elders stated.

"That is your crew then John, master trader. Rest this night, and come and see us on the morrow, where we will show you the wares for your first trip. May I suggest that you all spend the night together, to get to know one another more?"

The group stared at each other, the uneasiness plain on their faces. It was going to be difficult for everybody to get along, John conceded, the age differences, as well as the differences in personality would be hard to smooth over.

John's coterie had made the preparations for their departure. Justice had spent the rest of the day with his girlfriend, consoling her one last time before they had to depart. Preparations would not take long, they had been told, and they would be ready to leave by midday the next day. Valour had had a quiet lecture from his father, who finally hinted pride at his son's decision to leave the town, and make something of himself. They spent the rest of the day, and long into the night, discussing all that Valour's father knew of the outside world. What types of people to deal with, and which types to stay away from. In the morning, his father secreted a small, home-made pistol that he had purchased of one of the travelling traders into his son's backpack, which was little more than a cloth sack attached to a leather strap which could be slung across the shoulders. It wasn't particularly comfortable for long distances, but then the town had never had to prepare for anybody's long journey before. People that had left the town did so out of shame or a sense of isolation from the community, and as such only ever left with the clothes on their back, and rarely returned. Therefore, the town had never had to provision for a large party leaving before in its history. The town was buzzing that night. Sunset spent the night in the stables with her father, going over how to harness the Brahmin, as well as discussing the best routes to take out of the town, and where tracks or roads might provide stable enough passage for the caravan. Shroud spent the night with the elders, discussing which wares should be put on the caravan, and in what quantities.

It was a delicate process, because none of them had ever undertook such a thing before in the past. What they might regard as highly valuable might be scrap metal at their destination. She enjoyed herself, and the elders found a sense of excitement in her, that no man or mission had ever procured before. She was given knowledge of the currency, and bartering terms that she may find in the various settlements near Drainage. This had been gleaned from years of careful observation and slow contact. All that had been severed after the Kite incident. Dignity spent the night with John, who had found a kindred spirit in Dignity's sense of adventure. However, the boy was a hopeless rogue; John even caught him attempting to steal pottery. They discussed their respective families that they would leave behind, John lamenting not seeing his parents, Dignity glad to be finally rid of his.

John, for his part, brooded over the advisability of his undertaking this little adventure. Everyone that he had spoke to advised him against it, though nobody would outright refuse to let him leave. He spent the night in the drinking hole of the town, having dragged Dignity out of his house for fear of reprisal if he stole anything of value. When they were both inside, their nursed their sour brews, both still talking of their past family life. John was shocked at how bad Dignity's childhood had been, whilst Dignity was shocked at how naïve John was, declaring that he would have much preferred the freedom of his childhood, than the choking coy childhood that John had received. Whilst they were in the 'tavern' they gained another member to their team.

Veracity, whilst no prostitute or gutter wench, was hardly a paragon of the town's virtue. She had been one of the ones that had been entrenched with the Kite, a member of Noble's scene. However, whilst Noble had succumbed to the drug, Veracity had shaken the addiction. She still shivered in her sleep, and there was an unhealthy tinge to her appearance. Although she tried to integrate herself back into the society of the town, she found herself an outcast. Nobody, even her own parents, wanted anything to do with her, judging here as tainted goods, and as such should probably not be dealt with. She had been a labourer for a few weeks, but could not settle down properly, the shakes of her hand not lending itself with to the till or the plough. When she had heard that John would be leaving, for she was not present at the town gathering, her sleep had been so fitful that her sisters had not thought it humane to wake her up, just as she seemed to have settled down

"Please John; I need to leave this place"

"Veracity, I know you don't particularly like it here, but it has to be a better place than whatever will probably be waiting for us outside. We are taking a great risk leaving the safety of the town; I wouldn't want to put you in harms way."

"Your brother would have let me go with him…"

John paused, letting the words sink in. "I'm not my brother Veracity. I know you and him were close, but it was the wasteland that drove him away from you. Do you really want that fate as well?"

"I want to have a choice. I can't stand it here; you are my best hope for leaving. I don't eat much food, and I won't bother you much. I'll help with loading and unloading the cargo, you don't need to pay me, just give me a place to sleep at night."

John looked over the woman in front of him. She was almost a dozen seasons older than John, but seemed so vulnerable. Her pale skin clung to her bones, like carrion to a corpse. Her muscles were emaciated from withdrawal from Kite. He doubted she would be of any use to the caravan. Still, she had been a close friend of his brother, and she had been an attractive individual before the Kite had taken her. Many times, John had thought of proposing her, but he never had the courage to follow through. To see such an attraction of his youth plead with him to follow him on his crusade was astonishing. Perhaps having her travel with him would go some way to cure her affliction. It was the least he could do for his brother, who had been done so wrongly by Kite.

"Don't make me beg John, don't demean me that way."

John realised he hadn't spoken for many moments. "Okay Veracity, go and pack a sack and rest, I'll come and get you tomorrow."

Now it was Veracity's turn to pause. Her eyes looked to the floor, and her face crimsoned slightly. "I…I have no possessions accept these clothes. And I do not particularly want to return home. My leaving was not on the friendliest of terms."

John noticed Veracity visibly shudder; obviously there had been some dissent to her decision to leave.

"Okay, sit around awhile, I'll get you a brew, we'll discuss tomorrow"

John went to the bar, refilled both his and Dignity's tankards, and ordered one for Veracity. It was all on the house, because everybody was so in awe of what he was doing.

"Good luck with you tomorrow son, May the moon and stars shine down on you"

It was a standard farewell that the townsfolk had adopted, but coming from Tanith, the gnarled, hulking owner of the bar it held a foreboding tone. He refilled the tankards in silence and past them to John, who returned to his table. The rest of the night was fairly awkward, John noticed that Dignity and Veracity tended to hold each other's gaze for a second longer than was perhaps necessary, and they quickly created a bond between them, from which John was decidedly kept out of. Before the moon had reached its zenith, John left them both in the drinking hole together, and walked home. There, he packed his own possessions. Whilst he was packing, his father knocked on the door, and entered without waiting for and signal from John.

"Son, I don't agree with what you are doing, but I am proud of what you are doing"

He held out his hand, and John made as if to hug his father, as was customary between parents and children. However, his father pushed him away, again extending his palm towards him. John was confused, and then realisation hit him. He grasped his father's forearm with his hand, and his father did the same. A traditional greeting, of equals, friends, not of parent and child, the symbolism of the situation was not lost on John. As his father removed his palm, he passed something into John's palm. As John looked at his palm, he saw what his father had left him.

It was a knife, inlaid bone shaft, extending half a foot, with a blade a foot or more long made of hard iron. It was his father's work knife. It was a practical tool, used for many things. Families usually held only one, and they were passed down from father to son. They were made at great expense, and it was one of the few things that Drainage produced that traders had had any interest in. John accepted the gift from his father, who abruptly turned to leave, wiping his brow as he did so. His mother entered his room next, but she simply wept with him, tears of consolation. She had already lost on of her sons, and in her eyes, she was about to leave another. Although John had to steel his heart against her pleadings for him to stay, he did comfort her until the moon had waned into early morning.

In his sack, he had folded a few layers of the drab clothes and undergarments that he had got from his makeshift wardrobe. The knife, he kept on his person, for fear of losing it. He also placed a water skin, made of Brahmin hide, full of water, in case provisions ran low. Looking at his simple possessions, John realised that he did not really have much to call his own. He was not one to carry a journal, nor was he the sought of person that painted or any other creative outlet. His mother had given him a handprint of her and his father's hands, side by side, and he had included it, more for her sake than for his. Satisfied that he had packed everything that he would require, he hefted his sack onto the floor, and collapsed on his bed, for a few fitful hours of rest before his big day.

He awoke with the dawn. Continuing his old routine, he had washed his face and changed his undergarments before the brevity of the day hit him. Quickly, he put on his clothes, feeling their dumpiness and glad that soon he would be able to change it for some other type of wear. His breakfast was a muddled affair, his parents staying with him, but saying little. He ate quickly, the food tasting sour and old in his mouth, because he was eager to leave the house and find his new compatriots. With one last clasp from his father, and kiss on both cheeks for his mother, John made his way to the town square, where they had agreed to meet the day before.

The caravan was arrayed before him. It was a large canvas tent, atop a ribbed carriage. Where they had obtained the contraption, John would never know, however, he was still impressed by its size and magnitude, though he doubted its ability to move and carry goods. Beside it rested 4 Brahmin. They sat on the ground, totally at ease with Sunset who was walking around them, whispering in their ears in turn, and patting their heads. Justice and Summer-Peace sat alone from the rest of their respective families. He was exchanging final words with her, and they both passed something to each other, which John did not see. To his astonishment, Dignity and Veracity walked close to each other, their hands briefly touching. They had become 'friends' very quickly, and it made John chuckle. Shroud stood with her sister, discussing whatever it was that they discussed. John would probably learn about it in the coming seasons. Valour was talking with the elders, brandishing something, both to his amazement, and theirs. His father smiled briefly, and John was confused at the interaction. Winter-Mercy walked up to John, and tapped him on the shoulder.

John turned, startled.

Mercy's voice was gruff, and deep.

"Your trip is folly John"

"I'm honoured you think so Mercy" John retorted.

"You don't know the first thing about the Wasteland; you will all be dead within half a season"

"Thank you for your optimism Mercy, what do you intend to do about it?"

"I'm going to join you."

John stared incredulously at the heavy-set man.

"You're the head of the town patrol, you can't just leave your post."

"I have already discussed it with the elders. Its done. Somebody needs to look after you younglings, and I have had my eyes set on that Shroud woman for sometime."

Mercy chuckled, sounding more like thunder than mirth being emitted from his lips.

"I have already procured 6 hunting rifles, as well as 1000 rounds for your party, I'd be pleased if I was you. Not that any of you can shoot for shit. But I am sure I can work with that big lad, and the sly fox. But the airy fairy, the girls and my lovely are unlikely to ever get the hang of it"

"What about me?"

"I gave up hope on you a long time ago John"

"You always know how to say the most inspiring things, thanks Mercy"

"Not a problem. Make sure you restock the town's arsenal, or possibly upgrade it, as fast as you can. I don't like leaving Drainage defenceless."

"Will do chief."

"Don't call me that. As much as it pains me, you're the chief now."

John giggled at the thought, much to Mercy's annoyance, and went to inspect the wares he would be taking with him.

It was a sight to behold, every family had contributed something to the stockpile. Rugs, plain but functional, animal skins made into pouches and sacks, again plain and functional. There were knives, plain and functional. John began to sense a pattern of the wares that he would be working with. It could not be helped, he would have to attempt to sell off the dowdy furnishings and replace with some goods that he could actually make a profit from. Still, the town had given these goods to him of their own volition, and for that he was thankful. It would have been difficult to attempt to obtain the necessary funding to buy all of these wares, and the Brahmin, and the cart construction, on his own. It wasn't the best start, but John concluded that it was better than nothing.

He walked over to Shroud, eager to get a full tally of his stock, and concluding that she would be the most likely person to know that type of thing. He was glad that she had decided to come with them, he hadn't realised how complicated all of the accounting side of his expedition could have been, and without her he would have definitely been floundering, balking at the first hurdle. He approached, just as she was sending a small child on some no doubt vastly important errand, that John himself would have forgotten about. She turned to face him, a smile from ear to ear, and her body radiating enthusiasm that John had never seen in her before. Perhaps this would be as good for her as it was for him.

"Hello John dear!"

"Don't call me John dear, Old Shroud." It was a nickname she had picked up in recent years, and he knew it prickled her, but instead of souring she took it as some form of banter between friends.

"You are a cheeky one aren't you, I'll have to look out for you John"

"Its not me you need to worry about Win"

"O really?" John sniggered, but had more pressing matters at hand than continuing this flirtation with a woman easily two times his age.

"The wares, Win, lets keep our mind focussed shall we?"

"Spoil-sport" John couldn't believe the immediate change in her demeanour, the grouchiness of her past self had evaporated, as if a mystic angel had dived down and reaped the weariness from her body.

"Fine then, we have: 18 rugs of var

ious dimensions and quality, New-Dawn herself donated a few, but they are not the greatest quality and…" before she could finish, John interrupted her. "Focused Win"

"Hmph: 13 cushions, again various sizes and value, 23 knives, good lengths, it does my heart proud to know Drainage blades will be available all over the wasteland."

Obviously, the new Shroud had finally found her tongue, and was making up for 50 seasons of non-usage.

"8 Brahmin hides, they'll probably fetch the best price if you ask me, and 38 gecko pelts, with 3 golden ones thrown in for good measure. Not a bad load considering you got it for free."

"Thank you Win, I'll talk to you when we are ready to leave."

"O the preparations will take another hour yet at least, get that ox to stop choking his girl and tell him to start loading supplies."

John turned, found what Shroud was talking about. Justice and Summer had finally stopped talking, mainly because Justice had driven his tongue so far down her throat, John was surprised he couldn't lick worms off the floor. He waved goodbye at Shroud, and began to walk towards Justice. Before he could reach his newfound ally, Dignity and Veracity stopped him.

"When are we leaving, its just that we were wondering if there was enough time for us to…" Dignity's voice trailed off, and John gasped, exasperated.

"Is that all everybody can think about. You would think the whole town had taken leave of their senses. And hour, and you better be back to load the last of the supplies, or I am leaving with out you, I swear to the moon."

Veracity giggled, and jumped in the air as Dignity pinched her bottom, and chased her into the field. John shook his head, and caught Justice's attention. He received a not particularly subtle gesture, suggesting that Justice did not want to be disturbed at that point. Thinking that perhaps this early in their friendship, John possibly should not interrupt the big man, and with Dignity consoling Veracity in the field somewhere, he sought out Sunset, who he hoped he could at least have an intellectual conversation above that which he could obtain from a stripped gecko.

"Are we ready to go Sun?"

"Just about John, the Brahmin are set up, and the wagon is ready, we're just waiting for all the stock to be loaded on."

"How are you doing? You all set?"

"O, I am fine. It's a little difficult, leaving everything behind, but what would you do without me?" Sunset emitted a faint giggle, which John deigned to ignore.

"Its good to know." John paused awkwardly, realising he had run out of things to say. Sunset seemed to notice.

"So… where are we going then boss?"

"Blood-oath!" John knew that he had forgotten something.

"I'll go and ask Mercy later. So all you need is muscle to load the wagon, then we're all set?"

"Yepo John!" John looked sardonically at the girly comment, and Sunset blushed. He waved at her and began to look for Mercy.

Before he could get very far, Justice jogged over to him.

"I'm here chief, where do you need me?"

"Go and find Shroud, see if you can knock some sense into her. I think she needs you to load the wagon. Get Valour as well, I don't know where he has gone to, I am sure he can help you out."

"Will do John, have you seen Dignity and Veracity?"

"Don't even ask my friend. I'll speak to you soon."

Justice sniggered and jogged towards the pile of merchandise that was waiting to be brought into the caravan. John shook his head and continued forward, amused by Justice's immaturity in these situations, the snigger looking so out of place coming from the big man. As he spotted Mercy, chatting away to Shroud, the man didn't waste any time, John concluded, he heard a commotion from the caravan. A large crowd had gathered. After the last crowd, John was not in any hurry to join in. however, inevitably, he knew he would be dragged in anyway, so he walked over to it, ignoring Mercy for the time being.

"Gather round, Gather round!"

It was the youngest of the town elders, the one who had had addressed the crowd the day before. People had obviously come in from working the fields, or tending to their children, to see off John's big expedition. He saw the accusing eyes of Summer-Peace, indicting John for taking her beloved away. He bowed his head to her, unsure where her anger was coming from. However, he could understand her pain, even if it was misdirected. Her eyes glared, the accusations gaining force through her fury. Obviously, she had misinterpreted his reaction, and she turned and ran away from him, her hands rising quickly to her face.

The crowd parted in front of him, not jostling or cajoling him like they had the day before. People looked on as he ascended the steps and stood next to the elders. He raised his head to face the crowd, even though it took a force of will that he was unused to. He would have preferred to duck into the rear, like he had the day before, and like his new compatriots had done. He saw Dignity and Veracity skulking out off the nearby underbrush, covered in dirt, both with huge grins on their faces. He would have smiled, but he did not want to lose the concentration that he had built up to stare at the crowd in front of him. The crowd fell silent, and John felt his knees beginning to buckle. Fortunately, he caught sight of Mercy, who must have seen something in the way that he looked, and advanced onto the stage area. His arm gently lay on John's shoulder, offering both physically and metaphysical reassurance. John turned and looked into Mercy's face. He could still sense the wave of resistance that the man always put up when he was near him, but from an outside perspective, the slight smile on his face spoke of confidence, which was what John needed, he supposed. It settled the crowd, who turned and faced the gathering on the stage.

"Would you like to say any words before you leave, John?"

John was shocked, getting up on stage and facing the crowd had drained his willpower, talking was utterly beyond him. His mouth must have hit the floor, because the elder understand and began to turn away. However, Mercy lightly touched his elbow. "He will say something."

John furrowed his brow and glared at Mercy. The crowd began to whisper.

"What in the Nightshade's name are you going on about."

"You are sending these people to certain death. the least you can do is say a few words."

Those words knocked John physically back. In the past, Mercy had always presented a slightly hostile façade to John, but he thought it was just friendly banter. However, an aura of absolute hatred was radiating from Mercy, and he returned John's glare with even more malice. John stepped forward and addressed the crowd.

"Today we part company, people of Drainage. You will be seeing many of your friends, your lovers, your sons, your daughters, leaving you today. However, do not look on this as a final departure. These people are exploring the wasteland, charting knowledge that Drainage has never before learnt. They will become the pioneers of this town. Pride, not grief, should be in your hearts as you see them go today. Mercy will be with us, so even if there are dangers along the way, I am sure he can soak up more than enough of it to protect the rest of us. I know where I will be standing. You are allowing the best and brightest, and Dignity, the freedom to leave the town, and prosper in the wider world. It is an opportunity that is unheard of in this town's history. They carry with them a Sigil of this place, and everybody will know where they have come from. Their future will exist because of the experiences and tuition that you have given them. So look to this day as a momentous occasion, because future generations will look on Drainage as a place of education and culture, unparalleled anywhere in the Wasteland. You will be known as the originators of peace and prosperity, and for that you should revel in happiness and glory. Be joyful Drainage, for the world will remember this day for a thousand years"

As John's voice rose to its crescendo, his ears went numb. A buzzing sound filled them, which caused him to gasp and turn to Mercy. The tall, muscular man stared back at him, more with a sense of contentment on his face, than the astonishment that most have crowded John's. The buzzing sound begin to rescind into the background, and he realised the townspeople were cheering at him.

"Raise you hand you deft twit"

John looked at Mercy, then turned and did as he had been told. I raised my hand, and caught Justice's eye. He had been packing the caravan, deigning to ignore the crowd, to complete the work that needed doing. However, he stood and stared into John's eyes. A smile of satisfaction was on his face, as if a dawning of realisation had come over him. Dignity was clutching Veracity hand, but they both looked up at him, expectantly. Shroud couldn't hide her enthusiasm, virtually hopping from one foot to the other with excitement. Valour was sat on the floor, looking at the grass, as if he hadn't heard a word that John had said.

The rest of the crowd were applauding him. He could see the change in their reaction. Summer had stopped glaring at him, instead there was simply a fretful hurt behind her eyes. The crowd were not overjoyed, there was no mass celebration, however, a few of the smaller children, not really understanding what had happened, had started laughing and jumping up and down, and the mood had infected the rest of the crowd. John walked into them, greeting them as if they had never seen him before. He clasped their hands, and hugged those that he had considered friends. Small pieces of metal were thrust into his hands, as the people gave him small mementos of Drainage to take with him. The elder finished off talking to the crowd, simply giving the details of their departure, that afternoon, and telling them to prepare for their final goodbyes.

By the time John had finished talking to what seemed like everybody in the whole town, he made his way over to the caravan to talk to Mercy.

"So what do you think?"

"I've seen better, I don't think the joke went down to well."

"I didn't exactly have much time to prepare though did I? You knew I would start talking didn't you? That is a horrible trick to pull."

"I knew you would say something, I didn't expect you to verbally vomit over the entire crowd."

"Thanks pal, so where is our first destination?"

"You're the boss"

"And you're such a comedian. You know the surrounding area better than anybody else in this town, where are we heading"

"There is a trading marketplace about a week to the East. We have enough supplies to get to it, but we will have to stock up when we get there. Also, the market only meets every now and again, and I don't know the times. We could be waiting for days before anybody shows up. Alternatively, there is a small hunting tribe that holds a sort of outpost about 3 days walk to the Northeast. They aren't particularly friendly, mind, but I doubt they will kill us on sight. Or there is a farming community, a bit like ours but on a smaller scale, about 4 days to the South. However, they definitely don't like us, and their guns are bigger."

"Okay, we'll go to the hunting outpost, see if we can find a date of when the market meets."

"You are a genius, has anybody ever told you that John…"

"Your gratitude is enough for a thousand people Mercy. When do we go?"

"We'll be ready by midday, go and eat something, they are roasting some salted Brahmin jerky in your honour, you should probably partake in some"

John nodded, and made his way over to the barbeque, where most of the town was quickly converging. Meat was usually quiet difficult to come by, and expensive at the best of times. The elders obviously thought this was an occasion for a celebration and so the meat was handed out fairly freely. John took a strip and set next to his parents, talking idly with them about his plans. They seemed to approve, though the strain on their faces was evident. They didn't want to see him go. When he had finished, he kissed both his parents on the cheek, and made as if to leave. However, the crowd in front of him seemed to press down on him, everybody offering more trinkets for him to sell, making him promise to come back rich with enough for everybody. He obliged, and stuffed the near worthless bits of scrap metal in the satchel at his back, still quite empty. The others had filled their satchels with personal possessions, dolls or pillows and suchlike, but John found that he wanted to leave as much of his life behind in Drainage as he could, so he could travel the Wasteland unchained.

He made his way to the front of the caravan, and Sunset moved sot that he could sit down at the head of the contraption. Dignity and Justice stood on either side of it, holding their gun like they were spades, gripping the handle and shaft, neither having the faintest whiff of military experience. Veracity and Shroud were inside the caravan, checking everything over. Mercy sat next to Sunset, the other side of John. Valour was on the roof of the caravan, staring into the sky. John rose, knowing he couldn't leave without saying something else. However, before he could fully rise, he hear Mercy hiss.

"Sit down boy, I'll handle this one" The big man simply rose and shouted at the top of his lungs. "Farewell Drainage, the next time we meet, we will have more treasures than anybody, even old Tanith. Let's move out!"

The crowd erupted, preferring Mercy's short to the point exclamation, than John's long winded rhetoric. He would have to think about that one in the future, John concluded. The caravan started, and Mercy was almost unbalanced from the sudden jolt. Valour fell of the roof, much to everybody's amusement, apart from his father, who grimaced, but in good humour. The caravan passed under the huge sign marked "Drainage Works" that had given the town its name. The meaning had been lost to memory, but the elders still proclaimed that "Drainage Worked" at every opportunity, quoting the sign left behind by past generations. As children ran by the side of the caravan, Mercy turned to John and remarked "So I guess we are off".

The children gradually fell behind as the caravan, and all of its contents, both human and material, trundled into the distance, raising a small dust cloud in their wake.


	2. First Days

Chapter 2

The first part of the journey was very enjoyable for John. The sun was high in the sky, and Sunset was moving the Brahmin along ground, steering around potholes and bushes that dotted the Wasteland. Mercy kept his eyes peeled on the surroundings, even though John would be able to see any threat from miles around, due to the flat terrain that covered this area, and made it so ideal for farming. Dignity and Justice attempted to keep their eyes on the horizon, as Mercy had instructed them before they set off; however, they always ended up becoming distracted, either by talking to one another, or another member of the party. Justice walked up to John, who was lounging at the front of the caravan, bobbing along next to Sunset. Veracity was strolling with Dignity, and Shroud had decided to sit on the other side of Sunset, so she could enjoy the day. John thought he saw her catching glimpses at Mercy, but his mind was too preoccupied thinking about what they would find when they got to the hunting outpost. Mercy had said they weren't friendly towards townsfolk, so he was wondering what sort of reception they would receive. However, Justice tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and asked to have a word. John hopped down from the front of the caravan and walked with Justice.

"Naïve does not describe that boy"

John was confused for a few moments, before the realisation dawned on him.

"Dignity is most definitely not confused Justice"

"Not him, you idiot, Valour"

"What about him"

"He likes Sunset"

"Well, I mean he is allowed Justice. She's not the most attractive gecko in the pack, but she is a healthy young girl."

"Yeah, but he doesn't know anything. And I mean bloody anything. He refuses to talk to her, and asked me if brandishing his pistol would impress her."

"He has a fucking pistol! What is he doing with it?"

"His father gave it him, but that isn't the problem…"

"Yes it is a problem. That boy has his head in the fucking clouds, and he has a lethal weapon on him at all times."

"I told him I doubted whether it would impress her. Unfortunately, he has also been talking to Dignity, who has told him ideas to the contrary."

"If he pulls a gun on Sunset, she is going to freak"

"It might be worth you having a word with him. The gun is only a minor problem; he has no idea how to talk to women."

"And I do?"

"Well, I mean with your brother and everything."

"What are you trying to say Justice?"

"Calm down John, I am just saying he had, you know, a way with the ladies."

John knew that he had become angry, and it wasn't Justice's fault. He would have to deal with the gun though.

"Okay, don't; worry about it Justice, I'll go and have a word."

John walked round to where Valour was sitting at the back of the caravan, with his legs dangling down out of the entrance. John lifted himself up with a grunt, and sat next to him. It was strange to think of Valour as so young, he was only a few seasons younger than John himself, however, he had so little knowledge of life, that there might as well have been a dozens seasons between them.

"How you doing Valour?"

"I'm not too bad John, just thinking, that's all."

"Sure, sure, about that gun…" Valour turned on John, a look of hurt on his face.

"Don't take it from me John, my father gave it me. He said to only use it if I really had to, and to let Mercy teach me how to use it. Please don't take it John."

"Its okay, I won't take it. Just make sure you keep it to yourself okay? At least until you know how to use it properly. And promise me you won't brandish it on anyone, unless they are trying to hurt you. You promise?"

"I promise John, I promise."

"Excellent. Now, about Sunset…" Valour's eyes brightened and the hurt look disappeared.

"She is very nice John. Pretty girl. But I don't think she likes me very much"

"That's just because she doesn't know you Valour, go and have a quick 5 minutes conversation with her. Talk about the weather, or whatever you want. Talk about the journey. We are going to meet hunters, tribals, ask her about that. When you have run out of things to say, don't hang around, tell her you are going to check on Justice, or Dignity, or even me, and that you will talk to her later. That will probably work"

"Thank you John, I will do that."

"One more thing"

"Yes John?"

"I am going to arrange some shooting practice tonight with Mercy. Using the rifles though, not your pistol. Do you want to join in?"

"Erm.. maybe, I will think about it."

"Okay Valour. Speak to you later"

"Speak to you soon John"

"And Valour?"

"Yes John?"

"Good luck"

Valour's face split into a grin, and he bounded round to the front of the caravan.

"Hey Justice!" John shouted, and the big lad jogged form where he was standing at the front of caravan.

"What's up?"

"I think I have sorted it. I am going to ask Mercy for some rifle training tonight. You in?"

"Sounds good. You asked Dignity?"

"I haven't even asked Mercy yet. Valour is up for it though."

"O Dear…"

"He is about to attempt to chat up Sunset, go and make sure he doesn't make a fool of himself"

"Yes Boss!" Justice saluted, and then ran to the front of the caravan.

John chuckled and slid off his seat at the rear of the caravan, searching for Dignity. Unfortunately, he was still engrossed with Veracity, and he didn't feel like interrupting. Instead, he made his way over to Mercy. The man turned to face him, a look of mild irritation streaming across his face.

"What do you want John?"

"What's up with you?"

"All of you are amateurs. The youngest guy in the watch could patrol better than Justice or Dignity."

"All right, calm down. I have come to ask about that actually."

"What?"

"Rifle training, tonight? Teach us a few things once we have set up camp?"

"Us?"

"Me Justice, Valour, and Dignity, if I can drag him away from Veracity."

"That fairy isn't going anywhere near a gun"

"Which one?"

"Valour…"

"That's the problem; he father has given him a pistol, so I think he needs firearms discipline."

"Take away the pistol John."

"No, he really wants to keep it."

"Then I'll take it"

"Calm down Mercy. He has promised not to use it."

Mercy looked like he was about to rise to become angry, and John took a step back. Fortunately, Mercy slumped his shoulders.

"Okay, bring him along tonight; let it be on your head though John"

"Fine"

Not wanting to antagonise the seasoned guard and longer, John retreated back to his position at the front of the caravan, where Valour had just finished talking to Sunset. Justice had a huge grin on his face, and Sunset was blushing. Valour seemed to be walking off, sulking no doubt. Perhaps his first time could have gone more smoothly. However, in the interest of trying to keep everyone together, he decided to leave it alone.

"I have just spoken to Mercy, he thinks rifle training would be a good idea."

The question was directed at Justice, but Sunset spoke.

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea!"

"Erm… I don't think you were invited" Justice smirked.

"I can come! Can't I John?"

John didn't like the idea of Sunset coming to any harm. However, he was sure Mercy was a good teacher, and he wouldn't let anything undue happen to any of them.

"Yeah. Sure, go ahead Sunset, we'll see you tonight." He was trying hard, but he couldn't resist the temptation. "How did things go between you and Valour. I saw you talking."

Sunset's face instantly turned crimson. Justice had to try so hard to repress a laugh that he fell off the caravan's seat and onto the floor. Mercy glanced over, clearly unimpressed by the event.

"He is very sweet. He asked if I wanted to talk to him tonight. Something about hunting tribals in the rain? Said he had to check on Justice, who was sitting next to me, and then jumped off the caravan, falling flat on his face, and then sulked off. He wasn't particularly comfortable, and he jumbled a lot of words. He is pretty cute though."

By now, Justice was in full fledged hysterics, unable to control himself. John did find the situation funny, but thought better than to laugh at the boy's misfortune. Sunset did seem to find Valour endearing, so John thought better than to mock him.

"You have to give him points for trying."

"I guess so. I will speak to him tonight, see if he can compose himself better. Can you… can you talk to him for me John? Calm him down so he doesn't make a fool of himself?"

John found the situation strange. He was used to being a go between for his brother, but he had never been asked for advice of both sides. "I'll do my best Sunset; I am just going to talk to Dignity. I'll speak to you later"

John laid a hand on her shoulder, shot a look at Justice, and then slid off the front of the caravan. Justice emitted a small giggle, then fell silent, scanning the horizon again, as Mercy had attempted to show them. John rounded the back of the caravan, saw Valour sitting in the same position he had found him in the last time they had spoke, but decided it would be better to leave him for a while, rather than interrupt his train of thoughts. Instead he gave him a thumbs up, declaring he would speak to him later. Valour nodded, and carried on feeling sorry for himself.

"Am I interrupting anything guys?"

Dignity and Veracity were still talking together, one hand clasping the rifle, the other hooked in between the girl's. Dignity looked up.

"As a matter of fact John…"

"Sorry, a word perhaps?"

"Sure. I'll be right back Vee." They already had pet names. John shook his head slightly. She nodded her assent, and Dignity walked towards John.

"What can I do for you Boss?"

"Shooting practice. Tonight, with Mercy. You interested? I have managed to garner up support from Justice and Valour. Even Sunset says she will have a go."

"Okay, I am up for that. What is with Valour, he looks like he has been smacked in the face by a rotten gecko pelt."

"He is just sulking, it's a long story. Pretty funny one though. I'll tell you later."

"Fantastic, I could use a bit of comedy. Speak to you later."

Dignity left John, returning to stand close to Veracity. It was still too early for John to return to talk to Valour, but the Sun was beginning to wane in the sky. They would be stopping to make camp soon, so he decided he would talk to him then. He decided he would check in on Shroud, then probably call it a day, and have a sleep inside the caravan. The events of the past few days had taken their toll on him, and he hadn't slept particularly well. He needed to catch up on sleep, so he could be in a better position to sort out the mess that Valour had made with Sunset.

"How you doing youngster?" John called out into the caravan. It had been some time since he had seen Shroud, and she had not been making much sound inside the caravan.

"Hardly anything, until you woke me up"

"Sorry Shroud, just thought I would have a chat"

"Hmm, what is on your mind?"

"How would you rate our inventory?"

"Most of it is crap. We will be lucky to sell half of it for anything more than enough food and water to get us to the next village. I doubt we will be returning half as prosperous as you made the town believe this morning." John realised that his speech had only been made that morning, and yet it felt days since he had stood before the crowd.

"I am sure we can manage. Which bits are valuable, and which are scrap?"

"Those coins you got should be worth quite a bit. If you are willing to part with them?"

"Yeah sure" John felt no connection to the random bits of metal the townsfolk had driven into his hands.

"Okay then, the knives will fetch a pretty penny as well. Like I said this morning, the Brahmin hides will be worth quite a bit, if we can find the right tanner who will want to use them. We will want to unload the pelts as fast as we can John, if we don't, they will soon begin to rot, and then they will become worthless. The cushions and rugs are okay for accessories, but I doubt we will make much from them. The gecko lets, same again, they won't attract any serious trade, but we may be able to gain a few bits and pieces from them. You may want to think about trying to obtain some of the local currency, people are always more comfortable dealing in their own money, than bartering for products."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. And what should I be looking to trade for?"

"I can help you with that one" Mercy had lifted himself into the caravan, without John noticing. He had been so busy trying to remember what was valuable and what wasn't, and he had lost all sense of his surroundings.

"There is one thing that will always hold value in the wasteland boy" John wished he would stop calling him that, he was getting used to chief or boss. "That's weapons. Not spears, or knives or any of the other crap the tribals are going to want to exchange, unless it looks real fine, don't accept any of that. Firearms, pistols are good, but what you really want to concentrate on are rifles and shotguns."

"Okay. How much are they worth?"

"You really want the full story boy? I have to be getting back to patrolling, but when we get to the outpost, providing there is anybody there, I will look over the guns, tell you how much we should give for each one."

"Thanks Mercy"

"Not a problem, shooting tonight?"

"Hell yeah!" Mercy shook his head, glanced at Shroud, and then ducked out of the back of the caravan.

"Is there anything that isn't phalocentric that I should be on the look out for?"

Shroud giggled. "The man does like his guns; I would first look for supplies. It doesn't matter how many rifles we have, if we can't eat, we die. Then look for jewellery. Women from Drainage used to go crazy for tribal jewellery. Something about their earthy essence. Art is good as well, but only if you know what to look for, which I seriously doubt you do. If you have got stuff to spare, and you are thinking about presents, Veracity would love something like that."

Business concluded, John thought he might as well indulge himself a little bit.

"And what would you like as a present Veracity?"

"I'm not sure; people haven't bought me presents in a long time." Veracity blushed and John sniggered.

"O get away with you, and stop teasing an old woman!" she kicked him out of the back of, and he staggered to the front, barely holding in his laughter.

The Sun was already well into its descent by the time John had settled himself into the front seat beside Sunset.

"We should make camp soon John, it will be dark in no time."

"Okay, get Mercy to tell you where to set up, I am going to sleep for a while, wake me if you need anything."

"Okay, sleep tight"

John rested his head back, and let the pressures of the day seep from him. Quicker than he thought, his body relaxed, and he went limp.

"Get up, stop being a lazy Geck" Mercy shoved him, and he fell off the seat onto the floor. The camp was in the procession of being set up. A canvas tent had been erected, and another was in the process of going up. There was a fire crackling in the centre between the two tents. Sunset was putting tying the Brahmin to a tree. Dignity and Veracity were inside the tent that was being put up. The almost obligatory giggling was emanating from the tent, and Justice was shaking his head as he smacked in the pegs with a crude wooden hammer. Valour was feeding the fire with Shroud, and they were talking in hushed, conspiratorial tones. Stretching a few of his muscles, and receiving some satisfying cracks for his troubles, John made of towards the tent, where Justice was attempting to raise the sides of the tent, whilst Dignity and Veracity were playing inside., after he had shot Mercy an angry glare.

"For the love of all Lunar and Stellar, will you two please stop messing about?" The curse caught John unaware, and the two fell silent inside the tent. Mercy barked a laugh from behind him. Justice's face turned a slight crimson.

"You want some help my friend?" John asked

"Erm…yeah sure, thanks John. I didn't wake you did I? We weren't going to, thinking you had had an eventful enough day already." John found this perplexing, but kept the feeling to himself whilst he put up the tent. Dignity and Veracity sulked out of the tent and made their way towards the campfire to sit with Valour.

"Them two have only known each other for a day, tops. What the hell are they both doing prattling around like 10 season kids?" Justice was obviously exasperated.

"Shroud seems to know more than she is letting on. They might have known each other from before we set off, you don't know Dignity's life story" Again, Mercy had sneaked up on him, and began beating the last remaining peg into the floor.

"I don't mind. They seem to be having a good time, and it isn't affecting anybody else in the group, so I don't mind."

"Yeah, me neither" Justice flung the hammer down on the floor. "I am going to help with the cooking"

"Why is he so touchy?"

"You have a thing or two to learn yet boy. He is missing his sweetheart already, Summer is her name I think? He is getting a constant reminder every time he sees those two. That is my theory anyway."

"Okay. That's a point, Justice said they weren't going to wake me. How come you did?"

"Because I am a miserable old git."

"Probably true, but I doubt that was the reason you woke me." Mercy snorted.

"Leadership boy. These guys are going to be looking to you for direction in the seasons to come. How do you want to look to them? A hard worker who gets stuck in? A man of higher thinking, who assesses situations and then creates solutions to them? A manager, who can organise a team to obtain their maximum potential? Or a bum who sleeps whilst those around him work? Your no longer just making choices for yourself John, the choices you make will affect those around you think about that. Food is almost ready."

After such a revelatory piece of information, Mercy shrugged to himself and made towards the campfire. John was left slightly bemused. He waited a few moments, to make sure everyone was in the little huddle that was being created around the fire. Once he was satisfied, he made his way over and took the proffered bowl of Gecko meat from Shroud.

The conversation around the campfire centred on practical issues. Who would stand guard, how the firearm training would take place, and who would do camp chores. After Veracity proclaimed her wish to all of the chores, because she didn't think she was contributing enough to the mission, it took a stern look from Mercy before John interrupted the flow of affirmations coming from everyone. When he had made the case that even if Veracity wanted to do a heavy share of the chores, everyone should at least attempt to do some chore, this idea met with more approval, and Mercy had nodded his assent at him. They agreed on 2 man guards throughout the night, changing periodically, according to the moon's position. The firearms training would be done without ammunition, because Mercy didn't think they had any to spare. He would take one group tonight: Veracity, Justice and Sunset, and then the next day he would teach John Shroud and Dignity. He said he would show Valour how to use his pistol whilst they were travelling. John thought that it was just an excuse for Mercy to be able to give his full attention to Valour, whom he thought would need the most assistance, but Valour seemed happy to be the problem child, if it meant he got to spend more time training with Mercy.

Even though he was tired, his little nap in the late afternoon had stopped him from collapsing outright. Therefore, whilst those that weren't receiving training went straight to bed, Dignity looked downcast that he wouldn't be training with Veracity, and John couldn't help but think the decision had been deliberate. However, Shroud looked happy to sip to the female tent, and bid John farewell with a customary placement of her fingers on his chest. He ruffled Dignity's hair before he went to bed, remarking he hoped he wouldn't get too cold. It earned him a punch on the arm, but he thought it was worth it. He saw Dignity smile before he set off for the male tent.

John made his way towards the area they had designated for the firing range. He saw the assembled 'soldiers' playing with the hunting rifles. They had not bullets in them, but they could still be cocked, aimed, fired and reloaded. They would never be marksmen, so there was no need, at this stage, to fiddle with the sights. These guns were for short to medium range, and so all they needed to know how to do was shoot fast, not shoot accurately.

He watched them fumble with the breech mechanism, trying to get the right motion for pulling the slider back. Because each time the gun was cocked, the spent round from the previous fire flew out of the weapon, they had to ensure that their fingers were well clear of the breech mechanisms front, as they pulled the slider back. This took a very delicate set of movements, which were difficult to learn. Justice, with his big hands, was finding it difficult to get the dexterity in his fingers to pull the slider back, without getting the imaginary bullet sipping into his fingers and tearing skin off of them. Unsurprisingly, given her time tying reigns around Brahmin and stitching braids out of leather and thread, Sunset was quite adept at pulling the slider back, whilst getting her fingers out of the way.

John's mind retreated to the hours he had spent practising the same manoeuvre, and he walked back to the tent with a wry grin. Obviously, without ammunition, the accuracy of the shots was impossible to test, but at least they would know how to fire when that next stage in their training came about. As he walked back to the tent, he cursed himself for not speaking with Sunset about Valour, but he vowed he would endeavour to do so as early as possible tomorrow. He should probably have a proper talk with Veracity as well. He snuggled into bed, his roll mat lying next to the happily snoring Valour. Mercy's loud commands still ringing in his ears, mixing with the memories of his past, and he slept.

He awoke with a start, floundering within his blankets, attempting to get his hands free. There was a figure above him, grappling with his arms to try and get hold of him. John resisted, but the strength of the person above him was immense. His mind was still numb from exhaustion and sleep deprivation, but it didn't stop him wriggling free of his assailant and rolling away from him. He managed to get one hand free and raised it into a fist before he finally realised that it was Justice who was stood in front of him.

"Are you going to make that much of a racket every time it is your turn for guard duty?"

"You're a funny guy, you could have just tapped me on the shoulder, instead of trying to maul the life out of me."

"I tried; you sleep like you have been battered round the head by an iron club. Mercy said piss on you but I have to sleep there, and I don't defecate where I sleep, as a general rule."

"Whatever, who else is on watch?"

"Valour"

"Fantastic…"

John got up and stumbled out of the tent, grabbing the rifle that Justice proffered to him. Valour was already up and walking about. John contemplated talking to him, but his mind was still fuzzy, so he simply nodded to him and began to walk around the camp, as Mercy had shown them. Slowly, in alternate circles, John and Valour patrolled, scanning the wasteland for signs of movement. Once or twice, he saw large shapes, the size of badgers, but with hard exoskeletons, scuttling around the perimeter of the camp, but none ventured to close. However, they did give an eerie atmosphere to the camp, and Valour was visibly spooked whenever they came close.

It was not long before John could feel his eyes drooping. Valour had taken to walking with his eyes barely open, simply going through the motions of guarding the camp, as opposed to actually doing any observing of his surroundings. Mercy had said that this was the worse thing that a guard could do, because it gave any attackers the possibility of entering a camp by incapacitating a guard without any alarm being raised. If a person got to this state, it was better to get them to sleep, and wake somebody else up, than risk a possible infiltration by enemy forces.

John grasped Valour by the arm, managing to walk right up to him without so much of a flicker of recognition across his face.

"Rest Valour, you're no good to man nor beast in that state."

"Your probably right John, I'll go and get Dignity"

Valour stumbled towards the tent where Dignity was sleeping, far away from Veracity, much to John's amusement. As he watched Valour go, he perceived a slight shift in the background noise of the Wasteland. He spun around and raised the rifle to his shoulder. Before him stood a man, naked save for a piece of loincloth around is midriff. His arms and legs were covered in muscle, he was more heavyset even than Justice. His hair was jet black, and John couldn't make out his eye sin the predawn gloom. The shoulder of the man's right arm was completely covered in tattoos, long spirals that went from the top of his neck, down to the middle part of his bicep. There was no colour to the tattoo, just layers of black spirals that intersected each other. The man wore a feather in his hair, from some type of bird, and the plume of the feather was bright, even though the sky was still dark. It was long, almost the size of John's forearm, and seemed to be held in place, even though there was a slight wind in the air that would have surely knocked it out if it wasn't somehow adhered into place. However, what John took note of most was the large spear, easily towering above even John, tipped by a barb of metal, sharpened to a point at the end. It rested easily in the man's right hand, but it seemed poise to be thrown at a moment's notice. In his left hand, the man held a knife, longer than any John had ever seen.

The man took a step towards John, raising his spear, so it pointed, as if it was an extension of his forearm, straight at John. His other arm dropped heavily to his side, as if he was grasping some great weight. The man was about to speak, but the air was rented in two, by a sound like the one that accompanied a line of night-sun. John flinched visibly, but the other man reacted quicker. He dropped into a crouch and sprinted away from the encampment, rolling and scarpering in a seemingly random pattern to evade whatever had spooked him. John turned, and everything became much clearer.

Dignity was struggling to reload his rifle. The shot had gone painfully wide, that much was obvious, and Dignity had managed to jam the rifle by attempting to cock it back at the wrong angle. He was on one knee, attempting to unjam the gun by forcing the breech mechanism backwards, in an attempt to clear where the bullet had stuck inside the rifling of the gun.

"Stop Dignity" John yelled, and Dignity dropped the gun and looked up in haste, his eyes wide, fear etched in every single feature of his face.

"I…I thought he was going to hurt you"

"I suspect he could have hurt me without you knowing about it, if that was his intention" John sighed, Dignity had acted in haste, that much was true, but his intentions were good, so John could not be angry with him. He turned to face the darkness.

"We meant you no harm, this was a misunderstanding. Please, let us talk" John didn't expect a reply, and he was not disappointed. The oppressive silence of the Wasteland had stifled even the background humming and cracking that usually accompanied John's senses whenever he was in the countryside.

He swore, and spent the rest of the shift in silence, stalking around the camp, trying to hide his mood. Dignity was obviously ashamed of his actions, and John didn't need to make him feel any worse. When dawn began to rise, and Sunset arose to see to the Brahmin, Jon walked over to Dignity, who had been poignantly avoiding him for his whole shift. The shot had brought the camp to life. First, Mercy had scrambled out of his tent and dived onto the floor into a firing position. Next, Justice arrived, standing stock straight, making a huge target of himself and waving his gun around, as if he was attempting to swat bugs. Veracity screamed and ran for the cover where the Brahmin had been sleeping. Shroud popped her head out of her tent, but didn't bother to get up, knowing the situation would be resolved with or without her intervening. Sunset and Valour didn't even stir, both lost in the prospective dreams.

"Don't worry about it my friend, we all make mistakes"

"Our first encounter with foreign peoples, and I shot at them. They are going to think us savages"

"They will follow us; they probably already know where we are heading. Mercy thinks we may well arrive by day's end, so we will meet them there"

"And if they are not as friendly this time?"

"Then we will deal with that if and when we have to."

"Okay John, I'll go and make breakfast with Sunset. I'll speak to you later?"

"Sure Dignity, anytime"

The campfire was soon lit, and preparations to begin another day's travel began. Dignity remained silent throughout the rest of the day, only infrequently chatting with Veracity, before going back to scouring the wasteland, as if attempting to make up for the folly of the night before. John approached Mercy on the subject.

"What should I do?"

"It's probably for the best John. He will be more serious from now on, now that he knows that he may have cost us the expedition. There is nothing you can do about it now; I would concentrate on how you are going to make amends when we finally meet our friends"

"They can see us?"

"I am not sure, I think I can see them sometimes, hiding in the brush and undergrowth, but I can't be certain, and I don't want to spook them any further. I have told Justice, Valour and Dignity to not shout if they spot any of the people, simply to take note, and quietly pass it on later. None of them have come up with anything yet"

"Okay, well hopefully they will see our true intentions. We will still get there before nightfall?"

"We are moving even faster than yesterday, I have no doubt that we will get there before nightfall."

John moved off, to go and talk to Sunset on the front of the caravan. She saw him coming.

"I was expecting you to talk to me last night; I was getting worried when you didn't show."

"Hilarious Sunset, I didn't have time, what with you learning to shoot like a maniac, and Dignity shooting at our potential a

llies." Sunset giggled.

"So now you come to talk. About Valour I presume?"

"Absolutely. I haven't talked to him yet, I wanted to discuss it with you first."

"I thought we talked yesterday."

"I know, but I have been thinking. Do you actually like him, because I can get him to back off, if that would be easier for you?"

"He is a good companion, and I can see him being a loyal friend. Perhaps something more? But if he is going to keep salivating in front of me, instead of actually talking, then I am not sure that I can deal with that."

"Okay, if that is the way you feel, I will go and talk to the lad. How old are you Sunset?"

"62 seasons"

"Wow, your older than you look. You know he is closer to 70?"

"That doesn't bother me. You look older than you are. You are what, only about 75/76?"

"Yes."

"Well you look about 85."

"A compliment? By the moon Sunset, I am honoured"

Sunset giggled again and pushed him off of his seat. For the 3rd time in two days, he landed with a thump. It seemed his preferred method of leaving the caravan was at high speed, without a soft landing. He brushed himself off and went to look for Valour.

He needn't have looked far; the boy was talking with Shroud, Moon-forbid what ideas she was implanting in his head.

"Hey Valour, fancy a chat?" He poked his head around from the back of the caravan.

"Sure thing, I am just talking to Shroud" His head flashed back into the caravan and he heard some muttering. "You can come up and join us if you want"

John walked to the opening behind the caravan and hoisted himself up, leaving his rifle on the edge.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Consoling" Valour said, quite nonchalantly.

John almost choked. "What are you teaching him Shroud?"

"Nothing that a man of his age shouldn't already know."

"She is quite a good teacher John."

"I should certainly hope not."

"I could teach you a thing or two lad."

"Don't even go there Shroud."

"It would be interesting to know what you think about it John" Valour's eyes spoke of a mischievousness that he had not seen before. It unnerved John.

"What I know about consoling will stay between me and whichever fine lady I decide to share it with."

"Okay John, we'll talk later" Shroud giggled to herself, and Valour almost fell out of the back of the caravan laughing. John was unsure whether he liked this new flirtatious Shroud.

"Shroud, what I could tell you about consoling would blow your brains. You wouldn't be able to contain yourself. Half of the Wasteland would hear your moans."

"I am slightly more experienced than you might think John."

"I hope I never have the pleasure of finding out."

Shroud threw a mock pout at him, and kicked him out of the back of the caravan. Valour followed him.

"You wanted to talk to me John?"

"Yes. Its about Sunset."

"Moon Above! She hates me doesn't she?" His moan was like a gecko with a broken tail.

"Will you keep it down. I think she does like you, she said you two could be 'More than friends' but you have to stop ogling her when you talk, and actually attempt to form sentences."

"I try, but my mind just draws a blank whenever I try and think of things to say. I told her I had to talk to Justice last time, and then jumped off the caravan, realising that he was sat next to her. I felt a fool."

"I had heard about that one."

"I'll try"

"You need to come up with a plan prior to speaking to her"

"I know, I know."

"Go and practice, tonight we'll talk more. And Valour?"

"Yes John?"

"Don't talk to her again before we have practiced"

"Thanks John."

Feeling satisfied with his paternal nature, he went in search of Veracity. They were making good progress, and John thought he could see some type of tower structure in the far distance, but he wasn't sure if it was real, or just a part of his imagination. Dignity had spoken with Veracity for some time, but he had gone back to patrolling round the caravan.

"Hi Veracity"

"O hello John. By the way, I know this is kind of late notice, but I am really glad you let me tag along."

"Yes, you do seem to be enjoying yourself"

"Well, I was, but Dignity has gone all serious. I have heard Justice saying he almost shot someone last night, what actually happened."

"I don't think there was any chance of him hitting the guy. I was probably in more danger, and I was 50 spans out of the way."

"So he did almost shoot someone?"

"Yes, there was a man there, he raised his spear at me. However, I don't think he was going to throw it. It might have been some type of greeting."

"He put us in danger?"

"Not exactly, it just might make our greetings a little frosty when we get to the hunting outpost."

"Okay"

"Anyway, that wasn't what I came to talk about. How come you wanted to leave Drainage so badly?"

"It just didn't feel right there."

"Nothing going on between you and Dignity then?" Veracity eyes turned a little icier, and she gazed at John.

"Who have you been talking to? Mercy, I didn't think he knew?"

"Just call it intuition. However, that is not an answer to my question"

"…Yes, we did know each other. But with me being, you know, who I am, and his father being a high up in the esteem of the town, I could never be with him in public. This gives us a chance to be together" John didn't think Dignity's father was particularly high ranking, but he didn't argue the issue.

"Fair enough, its good to know these things." Veracity bristled.

"Well, it's a private affair, not for the noses of other people." John raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, you got me, I'll stay out." She relaxed, and a slight smile ushered from her face.

"Thanks John. I am really grateful for you letting me come."

"Don't worry about it. Just make yourself useful when we get to this hunting outpost." By now, the shimmering image had coalesced into a definite structure. He could see wisps of smoke rising from the outpost as well.

"I will boss, I promise" She curtsied, giggled to herself, and then ran to talk with Dignity. John smiled and hoisted himself up next to Sunset at the front of the caravan.

"Job done, next time he speaks he'll charm the garments right of your back."

"If he does, I hope he is ready for me to charm the teeth from his mouth."

"Feisty. I like that in a woman." Sunset put her fist next to his jaw, and gently knocked his mouth to the side.

"I'm a one man woman John, don't tempt, or you might incur Valour's wrath." This time, John giggled, and rested his head against the back of the caravan, closing his eyes.

"Boy! A word." Mercy's bark roused John from his light slumber.

"What in Mooncry does he want?"

"Better you than me John" Sunset saluted languidly at him, and then refocused on the Brahmin in front of her.

"Boy!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

John jumped down from the caravan and sauntered towards Mercy.

"What's the problem, I was resting quite peacefully."

"We'll be there soon, are we walking right in, or do you want to camp until they send somebody for us?" John hadn't even thought how they would approach the outpost.

"It probably wouldn't look good if we had just shot at their guys, and then marched right into their camp. We'll stay where we are, let them come to us. Get Justice and Dignity to hide behind the caravan with weapons in case anything goes horribly wrong, me and you will stand to the front, unarmed. Valour and Sunset can sit on the caravan; give Valour a rifle so we don't look totally toothless. Shroud can stand with us. That would probably look the best."

"Good, a fine plan boy."

"Please stop calling me that

"When you have earned a new name, then I'll stop calling it you."

"Thanks Mercy"

The rest of the journey was taken in relative quiet. Mercy talked Valour through his pistol, showing him to how to look down the sight, how to clean it and how to load it. Valour seemed to be quite adept with it, his fingers fitting easy into the manoeuvres required to keep the gun serviceable and accurate. However, when Mercy brought in Veracity to practice the rifle with Valour, he was hopeless. He actually cut his finger on the breech mechanism. Whilst Shroud made quick work of cocking the gun, firing and then miming a reload, Valour couldn't get his head around the fact that you had to move his hand out of the way, before he slid the breech back into place.

John and Mercy agreed I was probably best for Sunset to have the rifle, and for Valour to pretend to be in control of the Brahmin. When they got within a small distance of the outpost, the bottom of the hill, well within view of the outpost, but hopefully not in any threatening position, they stopped. John feared they would be kept waiting whilst the tribals deliberated on how they would deal with the intruders. However, they were not kept waiting for long, and before the Sun had set in the sky, a contingent of tribals had appeared.


	3. The Tribal outpost We all love Kite

Chapter 3

The entourage coming to meet the caravan was an interesting sight. Although the majority of the party, which consisted of 8 men and 2 women, was most definitely tribal, there were 3 figures which had the look of townsfolk about them. The tribals were adorned in various tattoos, in elaborate shades. Welts of red, green and blue pigmented their skin. One of the men looked as if the head of a huge monstrosity was stuck to his head. His face was peering from the mouth of the creature, as if he embodied the spirit of the man. The attire was no doubt to put whoever saw it on edge, and it definitely worked on John. Although he took a step back and gasped when he saw the figure, a glance over at Mercy, who was unmoved, made him take a step forward and retake his posture. Two of the men hefted large spears, longer than the tribal that they had met the night before had carried. A female tribal held a curved blade, the length off John's arm, in each hand. She held them cusped to her sides, so that they traversed the length of her body. However, John saw that her upper arms were quivering, as if she was ready to pounce on them if needs be. Another tribal held a hammer, the head easily the size of Mercy's chest, and John gawped at the strength that the tribal must have to wield such a weapon. Two of the tribals, clearly the leaders of the party, stepped forward.

Their robes were much more elaborate than any clothing that John had ever seen. Slashes of colour striped down the robes, as if somebody had poured blood and earth down the robes, and the colours had sunk in. John was not used to such exorbitant displays when it came to clothing, but he found that he was attracted to the more unconventional colour scheme. Although the tribals were also adorned with robes and differing shades and colours, they were nought compared to their leaders. The last tribal held a strange looking rifle, with an attachment coming out of the bottom, in front of the trigger. He held the gun in front of him, as if he did not perceive the caravan as a threat. His attire was different to the others. He was dressed in slim-line gecko pelt, dyed as black as night. He also did not walk in sandals, like everybody else that John had ever seen, but instead walked with his feet encased in what seem to be dyed Brahmin hide.

As daunting as the tribals were, it was the other members of the coterie which grabbed John's attention more. They were draped in clothes not dissimilar to John's though they had a tactical air about them, tighter fitting with small satchels sown into them. However, they were a different colour scheme, a pattern of stripes, grey, brown and green, giving the effect that they blended in with the environment. The effect unsettled John's eyes. However, it was not their apparel which ensconced John's attention, but their weaponry. Where the tribals were mostly primitive in their choice of armaments, these travellers were obviously not.

One had a rifle so large that it seemed to dwarf his hands which carried it. The woman had a rifle which was longer than any that he had ever seen before, and had a strange attachment on the top, like a looking glass. The third had pistols, like Valour's but much larger, and they cascaded down his sides in a long bracer, at least half a dozen.

"What is your business here?" That the elders hadn't brought up the incident the night before unsettled John, because it felt conspiratorial that they wouldn't bring it up straight away. The fact that John was unarmed in the face of such hardware also made him more fearful.

"We are traders."

"We have never seen you around here before." John smiled, he had at least prepared for this.

"This is our first time in this area. We seek to trade with the richness that this area is famed for."

"You rehearsed that?" The elder smiled.

"Perhaps, though I do hope it was well received?"

"Of course, may I first introduce myself, Mhotep, my wife, Simony, and the guards of this village. We also have the honour of being graced with the presence of 3 illustrious knights of Niagara." John had never heard of them, and by the look on Mercy's face, neither had he.

"We are truly honoured, good elder. However, we have been travelling, and were wondering if there was anywhere we could set up before we began trading?"

"Of course, we have a space prepared for such things, though the market is not some moons yet. It is just up the hill, if you would care to follow me? I am sure we can formalise the introductions when we meet the top."

"Yes, thank you."

They travelled up to the top of the knoll in relative silence, an atmosphere of awkwardness still prevailing. Justice and Dignity had stowed their guns in the back of the caravan before they traversed the incline, but Sunset still carried her rifle crooked in her arms as she guided the Brahmin up the hill. The initial meeting had gone well, but that they hadn't brought up the misunderstanding still irked John. It took several minutes for the caravan to get up the hill, and Justice took the time to slack his jaw whilst staring at the weaponry on show by the 'knights'. Mercy had nodded at him when they began the journey up the hill, but had been silent the rest of the way. Veracity and Shroud had come up from the back of the caravan and the procession was moving at a slow rate, mainly due to the Brahmin having problems moving.

When they did finally reach the top, they were greeted by a throng of tribals, and a few traders, no doubt eager to peruse their stock. However, the crowd was in silence, and Mercy had to kick John in the leg before he actually said anything.

"Greetings. My name is John, and this is my right-hand man Mercy. We have come to this outpost in an effort to not only increase friendship and cooperation between our two people, but also to increase prosperity for all through trade and partnership. Although we are new to these parts, we have heard of the camaraderie on offer here, and are eager to partake in it ourselves. Therefore, I would ask you where the nearest watering hole is, because I am dyeing to slake my thirst."

A weak applause began from somewhere in the crowd, but when the elder began to cheer with enthusiasm, the rest of the crowd soon followed suit. The sight of so many colours and shapes moving in front of John's eyes dazzled him momentarily, but he turned and nodded his head in thanks at the elder, who imitated the expression back. They were led to an area where they were told they could leave the caravan, and given instructions to meet the elders and a congregation in the local 'tavern'. Although John was unsure what this meant, he accented to the wish, not wanting to offend any of the inhabitants. A man was posted as their guide, his name was Samson, and a quick interrogation soon brought forth that a 'tavern' was in fact what a watering hole was called in the Wasteland. Information gained already, John thought with a wry grin. Samson was a huge man, as were most of the tribals in the outpost. John had thought Justice large, but he was only of average stature compared to some of the brutes in the area. After they had got themselves prepared, John stated that he would be going to the tavern with Mercy and Justice, and that the rest of them should stay and stand guard. He endeavoured to talk first with Samson, to glean some information about the outpost, to ensure that he did not drop in any pitfalls during the initial discussions.

"How come you got the name Samson?"

"It was the name of my father, though it is not my full name. My name is Samson Guide."

"You have two names?"

"Most people have two names trader, what is yours?"

"Well my name is John, he is Mercy and he is Justice"

"John is a strange name in these parts, I have only ever heard it used once, to describe a trader who used to pass through here a long time ago."

"I think we may have both met the same trader. What happened to him?"

"The black lotus ambushed him, most likely."

"The black lotus?" Samson paused.

"I have perhaps said too much, the elder would probably prefer to talk to you in person about this."

"I understand. What of this outpost, what is it used for?"

"An outpost? I am sorry trader, but you must be mistaken. This is no outpost, it is a village, a permanent fixture. Due to its relatively safe location, women come here for childbirth and rearing, and traders come here because it is a good stop over before heading to the marketplace."

"Interesting. How many seasons are you Samson?"

"I don't understand your question?" John attempted to rephrase the question.

"How… how aged are you?"

"You speak riddles trader. If you wish to know my age, I am 26 years old."

"A year?" Samson's eyes narrowed.

"You do not understand 'year' trader?"

"I am not familiar with the term."

"What unit of measurement do you use trader?"

"Seasons."

"Ah, that makes more sense. Generally speaking, there are 4 seasons to a year, though it is hardly exact."

"And a year is a common unit of measurement?"

"Yes, absolutely, almost everybody uses years."

"That is very useful to know."

"Trader, I think perhaps it is time I took you to the tavern, so that you could meet with the elder."

"Of course, lead on Samson Guide"

Samson bowed and then led the small group through the avenues towards the tavern. Although the houses were only ramshackle huts, they were still in a better state of repair than anything in Drainage. John's townsfolk lived in the remnants of whatever structure used to be in place many years ago. They had not the skills, materials nor inclination to attempt to build anything else. It was interesting to note that the people of this village had built their own dwellings, and seemed quite content with mud walls and canvas ceilings. However, the tavern had folded metal for walls. It seemed like the walls were crafted out of large sheets of shiny metal, and then crudely stuck to a roof, and slammed into the floor. The structure did not particularly lend itself well to sturdiness, in John's opinion, though he was no expert when it came to structural integrity.

"Come in! Come in! Please take a seat esteemed trader." The elder clapped his hands together. His wife had gone, and there were 3 other tribals around him. John recognised them from the meeting at the bottom of the hill. The tribal who hefted the large hammer was there, along with the tribal who had the head of the wild beast on his shoulders, and the slender female, still replete with her curved blades.

"Of course, we have already been introduced John, however, may I also introduce you to firstly my son, Mikhail, the leader of the garrison in this village." The tribal, now without his beastly adornments stood and nodded is head towards John. "Also, this is the master of combat, Stern." The hulking brute stood, and inclined his head the smallest of fractions towards John. "And it gives me upmost pleasure to introduce Silica. She is a…" Mhotep's voice trailed off as he glanced towards the knights, sat together in a corner of the bar, "traveller of the wastelands, and we are blessed by the God's for her presence here. Her skills with the blades of fate are unparalleled anywhere in the wasteland." With another glance, Mhotep hastened "apart from the glorious blade masters of Niagara of course." Silica did not stand, but instead raised her hand in the air, fingers splayed.

The knights, satisfied, sat back from where they head suddenly taken interest in the conversation, and continued discussing whatever they had been talking about.

"I am honoured to make your acquaintance. It seems I stand in the company of heroes." The three make tribals laughed heartily, and the female smirked, before hiding her face in her tankard.

"Before I do introduce myself, may we first wet our lips with some of your fine beverages?"

"Of course, Kline! 3 tankards of your finest brew!" As the beer arrived, tasting sweeter than John had expected, and much stronger than he had hoped for, he announced who his companions were.

"This is Mercy, the head of my guardians." Mercy simply smiled, offering no nod of his head or raise of his hand. John hoped the slight did not offend.

"And Justice, my load master." The title was improvised, but John did not know what else to call his friend. "This ale is fantastic, elder. Is it brewed locally?"

"No, we get a shipment every few weeks from The Brewery."

"Is that a name of place? I have never heard of such an establishment. Please, enlighten me."

"I do not know its exact location, only that they bring a huge caravan to Marketplace, and it never leaves with any stock left."

"Then I thank you for allowing us to taste it."

"It is not a problem. It has been a long time since new traders have come to our little village. We are eager to see what goods you have to offer."

"Thank you elder, when do you think we could start trading?"

"As soon as you see fit, though the night is already late. I must retire, for I have a meeting that I must attend. I leave you in the solid company of my compatriots, however, and look forward to speaking with you tomorrow. I bid you farewell, and you too, Justice and Mercy."

The elder got up gracefully, nodded to John and his friends, then to the knights, gently kissed Silica on the cheek and clapped the shoulders of his son and Stern. He left after putting something in the hands of Kline, no doubt payment for their drinks. At once, Justice began to discuss the intricacies of the hammer with Stern, enquiring as to how it was he could lift such a weight. Mercy engaged Mikhail about the intriguing headdress that he had worn. That left John sitting next to Silica, feeling slightly awkward, not knowing what to say to her.

Up close, she was an attractive woman. He had seen prettier girls in Drainage, but not those with such a finely tuned body. There was no fat on her, and the muscle accentuated the curves. Even though she was liberally covered in gecko pelts, they were arranged in such a way as to be pleasing to the eye. Her dark, curly hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes were a deep brown. However, the fact that she had larger biceps than he did put him off somewhat, John was not used to girls of martial prowess. There had been none in Drainage, and he concluded that this would probably be the best way to start the conversation.

"You are a warrior?"

"You are a trader?" The smirk was evident on her face. John tried to feign a laugh, but it got caught in his throat. He was flailing badly, and he hadn't even begun yet. He tried a different tact. In a hushed tone, he enquired as to the knights.

"The elder seemed wary of mentioning your position in front of them" John indicated to the knights still sat in the corner "I am to take it that you are not just a traveller?"

"You would be correct in your assumption trader. Though, I do not know you enough to begin discussing the intricacies of Tribal/Niagara relations with you. I would know where you come from though."

"I come from a town about 2 days travel South of here. Drainage is the name of the place, though we do not usually have much contact with the outside world."

"I know of the place. I once met a man who claimed he was from there. Though he was raving and festering, I wasn't sure if he spoke the truth." John's curiosity was piqued in a big way.

"Please Silica, tell me the name of this man."

"It was a year or more ago. I doubt you would remember him"

John was getting more and more anxious. "I need to know the name."

"Okay, calm down trader. I can't remember exactly, it was a long time ago. It began with N. It was a strange name, not something you would usually find." John had broken out in sweats. Although Silica looked strangely at him, John did not care.

"Noble. Was his name Noble?"

"Yes, that could have been it." John let out a long sigh.

"I need another drink. You found him in this place?"

"No, it was further to the West, and more North of here." John arose, his hands shaking, and made his way to the bar. That his brother could still be alive was astonishing. He staggered to the bar, using the wooden surface to steady himself. He now had a purpose to his travels. If he could find his brother, then he would be able to return him to the town. His mission was no longer aimless, and the sense of purpose filled John with vigour. He was about to order another drink, before realising that he had nothing to pay with. After taking a deep breath, he turned, ready to converse with Silica some more.

He was confronted by the female knight. Where Silica was dark-skinned from hours in the sun and muscular to the point of many males in Drainage, this woman was petite. Although she was not devoid of muscle, it was not carved into her like it was to Silica. She carried herself with more grace, but less finesse. Her hair was cut short, and it gave her the features of a young boy. He didn't doubt that she was attractive in many men's eyes, but she looked too amorphous for his tastes. Her physique, however, was exotic to John, and it did excite him somewhat.

"I'll get this one for you trader. Tell me, what is your name?" the knight dropped a lump of some type of metal onto the bar surface, and faced John.

"Erm…John, my name is John."

"Well hello there. My name is Christine, knight supplicant of the Niagara chapter. May I enquire as to what you are you doing in these parts?"

"Well, I am a trader. If you don't mind me asking, how come you are around here? "You don't look particularly tribal."

"We are protectors of these lands. From Niagara to anywhere that requires guardianship from the wrongs of the wasteland."

"It seems a noble cause. What is Niagara?"

"It is a huge cavern. A stark cliff face etched with the blood of our predecessors. It is a place of peace, tranquillity and progressive thinking. From there we send out regular patrols to ensure that the rule of law is kept throughout areas under our jurisdiction."

"I'm impressed. Where is Niagara?"

"I am sorry trader, we cannot let its location be revealed to every enquirer. It could open us up to infiltration and deceit. Whilst our virtue gives us strength, even the purest of spirit can eventually be brought down by a cunning mind."

"You've got a wise policy it seems. Thank you for the drink, I'll be sure to make your hospitality known to my companions. Would you mind talking with them?"

"Not at all, we welcome all outsiders to discuss whatever they wish with us."

"Then I will tell them that. I will speak to you soon Christine."

"I look forward to it John."

John took his drink and made his way back to the table. Silica bristled.

"They seem like a nice bunch. Very holier than thou though." Silica snorted. It raised eyebrows amongst the knights sat at the table in the corner.

"Yes, well trader, I do hope you aren't as naïve as to believe everything that you hear in the wasteland. Trust is hard to come by in these parts."

"I should trust you?" John asked quizzically. Silica giggled.

"Of course not, that would be foolish. You can trust that much."

"I'll make sure I keep that in mind. Alas, the night is getting late Silica, and I have to sleep."

"Of course, I too must retire, come and say goodbye before you leave trader."

"I'll do my best Silica. One thing though, what is your second name?"

"It depends on the interpretation. Wanderer, Protector or Justice are all names I have gone by in the past." John snorted, it sounded very pompous to him.

"I will speak with you soon Silica. Enjoy the moon." Silica smiled at the expression.

"As should you trader, as should you."

John rose to lave, and caught Mercy's attention. He bid his farewells with Mikhail, and made as if to leave. Justice did the same with Stern. As he turned to leave, a felt a hand on his shoulder, it was hard and muscular. John swivelled to face the figure that had put the hand on his shoulder. It was Mikhail

"You are the leader of this party, I have been told to believe. Myself, I do not see it, but still, I would have you share a bead of Kite with me in my abode with my shadow."

"Your shadow?"

"You are not aware of this saying? It is the woman I am in love with; we are soon to be betrothed."

"I see. Allow me to organise my caravan for the night, then I will get Samson to guide me to your house."

"Of course. I will await your arrival within the hour?" Samson had attempted too explain the meaning of an hour to him, but it was still an alien concept.

"Yes, I will speak with you soon Mikhail."

In truth, John was apprehensive about doing anything with Kite, which had done so much to ruin his family. He would seek consul from Shroud and Mercy, and then make his decision about what he was to do. But it would have offended Mikhail if John had not accepted his offer, so he had no choice but to accept.

As they left the tavern, Samson jogged over to them, and began to take them back to their caravan. John thanked him, and had to drop his shoulder to accommodate Justice's head rolling down on him.

"Calm down friend. What is it?"

"It is the ale John, the boy and Stern got into some type of competition. I fear Justice lost."

"I am fine. And I am no boy, John I hate it when Mercy calls me that."

"Me too friend. I'll get you back to the caravan, and then you can sleep it off.

"You did well boy, those knights are dangerous, you seem to have dealt with the situation correctly."

"Silica said they were not to be trusted as well. They seem to be nothing but honourable to me. Preaching about nobility and virtue."

"It is an easy way to make friends in these lands by preaching such things. We must see if they also concord with their own views, before we can offer an objective opinion about them."

"But your gut instinct tells you that you don't like them?"

"My gut instinct tells me not to like most people John."

"Charming. I'll ask Shroud when we get back to the caravan."

"Okay."

When they arrived back at the caravan, it was clear that it wasn't in the same state that they had left it. Shroud and Veracity were in one corner, and the younger was crying onto the elder's shoulder. Valour and Sunset sat next to each other, though it seemed there was an air of awkwardness between them. Dignity sat on his own, practising with the rifle that Mercy had given him. He was getting adept at cocking the rifle, and was putting in real bullets into the gun, and then cocking them out in a swift, smooth motion that John envied. He had never been able to do such a thing with the rifle.

"Time to do your thing boss"

"I do love my job Mercy."

"You chose it. I'm going to put Justice in the back of the caravan; he isn't in a fit state to do anything. In my opinion, I would leave the old lovers, and try and kindle that new one over there."

Mercy pointed to Valour and Sunset, and then made of towards the caravan, dragging Justice behind him. He had attempted to lift him up, when he didn't think John was looking, but the effort was beyond him, and he had to resort to lunging him forward by his armpits.

John sighed and sauntered over to Valour and Sunset. He didn't know what he was going to do yet; he just thought his mind engaged before he started spurting in front of them.

"Hi guys." Sunset was visibly relieved.

"Hi John! How did things go with the elders?" John sat across from Valour, as far away from Sunset as was socially possible. He didn't want Valour to think he was muscling in on him.

"Pretty well actually, we met some interesting characters. Justice had a little too much to drink, but he will recover. I got approached up by some wasteland warrior woman, and by a female knight of all things. Clearly my good looks were wasted in Drainage." John grinned, and Valour grimaced.

"You got approached!"

"No, not quite Valour, we were just talking. The knight did pay for my ale though."

"Wow John, not bad, seems this trip was a good idea after all."

"The elder left me with a jug of ale, which I don't want to attempt to start. However, you two could share it if you want." The ale had been a present for Shroud, but he thought it was stupid, so decided against it. It had cost him only a few of the metal lumps that the people of Drainage had given him, so he didn't mind. Perhaps a little inebriation would help them both get along.

"Okay, thank you John." Sunset picked up the jug and took a long draught, before coughing and passing the jug to Valour. Obviously, she thought inebriation was required as well.

"I will speak with you later Sunset and Valour. I must go and talk with Mikhail, the village's soon to be leader."

"Enjoy the moon John" John winced at the overtly flirtatious expression from Sunset, something that Valour did not miss.

"Speak with you later John."

John arose, hoping he had done more help than harm. He walked over to Mercy, who was now discussing the rifle with Dignity.

"You mean you can fire without having to cock the breech mechanism every time?"

"Absolutely. However, when it fires, the expelled cartridge creates a vacuum of air. When it flies out, air is sucked in, along with all sorts of dust, mote and anvil. Within 10 bullets fired, the gun will jam, and it will take time to unjam the gun. Time which you don't have in the heat of a battle. So yes, you can fire it without cocking the breech, but I wouldn't advise it." Dignity nodded, but his eyes gleamed still. Obviously, the tales of daring fire fights that the trader's sometimes told had been taken in a little too readily by Dignity.

"Mercy, I would speak with you"

"Okay John. You look good with that rifle Dignity, I think it suits you" Dignity beamed, and Mercy stood up and walked towards John.

"What can I do for you boy?"

"Stop calling me boy for starters. However, more pressingly, I am going to ingest Kite tonight. Will that make me addicted?"

"A conundrum indeed. I doubt that you will have a particularly high strength variant of it, because if these people take it on a regular basis, then they would not be able to withstand the side-effects for long unless it was ingested in a diluted format. However, only take the minimum of what is offered, there is no need to gorge yourself."

"I was going to ask Shroud…"

"Don't ask Shroud. She is having problems enough of her own."

"Okay, I am going to go now, make sure you set up a guard system, and I will take a duty when I get back."

"Okay."

"I will speak with you later Mercy."

John asked Samson, who had been drowsing near the encampment, to take him to Mikhail's hut, then his services would no longer be required until the morning. Samson gladly obliged.

"I can finally go back to my shadow, I have been missing her greatly, as I haven't seen her in many days." The concept of days confused John, but he thought it better not to make it known.

"Of course Samson, I will speak with you later."

Unsure of the greeting custom, John simply rapt his knuckles on the door twice and waited. The door was opened within moments, and a very scantily clad woman was highlighted in the moonlight. She had a sheen covering that was wrapped in fashion that suggested the material was worth a lot, and so could not be wasted covering anything that it didn't need to. It did not stop John's jaw from dropping, and he was forced to avert his gaze.

"I offend your eyes trader?"

"No. No you are a lovely sight; I am just not used to it. A custom amongst your people I assume?"

"Yes, whenever two leaders come together, the shadows of both should appear adorned pleasantly."

"I must regret to inform you I have no shadow with me. Other than that which is follows me on the ground, and the moonlight steals much of that." Although the woman laughed politely, he could tell that the joke was an old one amongst these people, and regretted it instantly.

"I must also say that I have only traveller's garbs with me. Until tomorrow, I will not be able to wear anything as fine and pleasant as you have." John was beginning to come to terms with the dress sense of these people, though his cheeks still turned red at when he looked at her. The woman seemed to be amused by this.

"My name is Almira. I am the shadow of Mikhail." John did not like the subservient tone in her voice, but thought it better than to address the matter at this time.

"My name is John, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Please, come inside. The Kite is being prepared. What is your favoured medium?" John paused for a moment.

"My experience with Kite…has not been vast. What is a medium?"

"How do you like to take your Kite? We will offer a selection for you to sample. Can you please remove your boots before you enter?"

John withdrew his feet from the boots, and put them on the inside of the hut, next to a number of sandals, and a pair of gecko skin boots. Barefoot, he traversed the entrance hall into the main area. It seemed that the whole of the house was situated in one room. There was an outhouse, behind the hut, but apart from that and the entrance hall, everything centred in one place. The kitchen and preparation area was in one corner of the room, dominating a good half of a wall. There was a small fire in the centre of the floor, the smoke funnelling up to a hole in the roof. John wondered what they did when it rained. A variety of cushions were arrayed against one wall of the room, and the colour's startled John eyes. Whilst the tribals had many patterns inserted into their clothing, and a variety of earthen and other more unnatural colours, the scale of variety and detail worked into the cushions was astounding. They seemed to be more for show than for practical concerns, because the rest of the room was taken up by a large rug, on which Mikhail was situated, with a throw over him. He was completely naked, save for a strap of cloth across his groin, and a leather strap of blue across his right bicep.

"Please John trader, sit down" the name confused John, but he went along with it nevertheless. Already the noxious fumes of the Kite had dulled his senses.

"Would you like a cake, they are infused with Kite, and they give it a spectacular flavour."

"Thank you. I have been wondering, how come you have the animal head, which you mount around your shoulders?" John bit into the cake, and it did indeed taste more intense than anything he had tasted in Drainage. The meat was usually fatty and hard to chew. The vegetables had been plain and staple. Although fruit and spices did add flavour to the food in Drainage, they were generally hard to come by and usually only added during festivals or at great expense for a family.

"It is the head of a great animal, a bear. As part of the ceremony of manhood in this village, it is customary to hunt and kill a beats of the wastelands, in order to prove man's domination over nature." The cake tasted truly invigorating, and John took another after finishing the one that he had already eaten.

"By all means John, take another, they are a fantastic creation, and our biggest export."

"Thank you. Tell me more of this bear."

"Well, most youths hunt gecko or roaches. With respect to them, these animals are dangerous, but with the right training and equipment, they can be easily dispatched if singled out from a pack and repeatedly attacked with spear and axe. As future leader of this tribe, I felt I had to prove myself further. Therefore, I went into the mountains many days to the East, and found a coven of bears. I goaded one to attack, and fought with it for many hours, before I finally managed to get into a position to plunge my spear into its hide. It looked at me in the eye as it died, and I could see that it knew it had been bested by man. I took its head with my axe, and brought it back before my people, to show them that I was blessed in the eyes of the mountains and the forest. They rejoiced, and a master craftsman, who you will no doubt meet tomorrow, fashioned the head into a helmet for me to wear. It imbues me with the spirit of the beast, and I am one with nature when I fight. The head won me the love of my shadow, who will stand by me forever." John had eaten another cake whilst Mikhail told his story.

"However, I do not wish to bore you, I and my shadow prefer Kite smoked. Although it is harder on the throat, it is quicker entering into the bloodstream."

He produced a pipe from within the rugs and began to liberally apply a paste of Kite onto the stick, before plunging the stick into the fire, his wife did the same. The aroma of burning Kite excited John, and he knew he was under the thrall of the drug. At first, his head had just felt drowsy, but within moments, his vision had begun to swim. The colours of the cushions began to merge and swirl into patterns. Nerve endings would break out on fire all over his skin, before a cooling balm was applied to them, almost by instinct. The constant heat and cool of the drug inside of him produced an aphrodisiac effect within him. He shook his head, but it was too late. Mikhail and Amira had partaken of the drug, and he could witness its effects on them. Amira rid herself of her clothing, and knelt pertly in front of Mikhail. John's head got drowsier and drowsier. Time began to lose meaning as an orgy subsumed itself between the three of them. His clothes were quickly taken from him, so that he could be freer to enjoy Kite's embrace. He could see why his brother had become so engrossed with the drug. What was not to like. It was a soft blanket on his body, as he made love with both Amira and Mikhail. He felt their touch and caress more powerfully upon his skin, and both the muscles of Mikhail and femininity of Amira were accentuated by the drug. When John sought to partake of more Kite, Mikhail grasped his hand shaking his head.

"You have had enough trader, it will suffice you tonight." Although John heard the thoughts, and wanted to protest, he feel easily back into the rhythm, his clouded mind eventually falling asleep, surrounded by the warmth of Mikhail and Amira and Kite, his three greatest friends.


	4. Reality Check

Chapter 4

The world was grey. A spectre had come overnight and drained every vivacious shade and wonderful pallor. Thee cushions were a patchwork of rudimentary stone, the smouldering embers of the fire were like leaves of a forest in twilight. Movement caused painful sensations that John did not perceive could actually exist. It was so much a physical pain, it was as if his very soul had been dragged out of him, shat on, and then stuffed back inside of him. His core spirit had been dredged through a trench of toxic filth, rubbed in the grave of a thousand cockroaches, polished by 12 violated children, and then neatly placed back inside of him, the wrong way round. Amira was lying next to him, with her arms wrapped around Mikhail, who was lying next to her. They were both awake, but seemed to be suffering the same after-effects as John. He moved his arm over to her naked back and prodded, in an attempt to find any vestige of humanity left in the wreck of carcasses that was on the floor.

She stirred, but it didn't produce significant effect on her. He collapsed back from the effort.

"This is a time for contemplation trader" Amira cloaked. "It allows you to perceive without being clouded by the emotions of the world. Free from petty feelings, it gives you insight into logic and reason which would be otherwise unattainable."

Sensing absolutely nothing from the external environment, John could see what Amira was talking about. However, he had no intention of thinking, preferring to simply lie and wait for something to happen. It did not take long before Amira actually got up.

"I will prepare the remedy for you John, you will feel no ill-effects, we regulated your intake to ensure there would be no long term consequences."

She rose, and put on a more suitable set of clothing. John was quite sure it was the rest of the tribals wore the day before, but it was colourless, and there was no form to it, that John could see. She made some type of brew, and passed it to him. This must have been what Drainage got wrong, instead of using the drug with the antidote afterwards, there was no antidote, and so it was just a vicious circle of addiction. This information could have saved his brother's life. John cursed his ignorance, drank his tea, and the world swam back into normality.

Colours assaulted him from every angle. His nose transcended for an instant, as the smell of intercourse, burnt Kite and the dying embers of the fire all coalesced in his nostrils, creating a vivid thunderstorm of sensation throughout his perception range. All of the physicality of the night before threw itself onto his body, with the force of a tsunami. Consoling the son of a village elder, and his soon to be engaged girlfriend, was not John's idea of a good time, but he guessed there was little he could do about it now. It did seem a very exciting idea at the time though.

He got changed, and partook in a particularly awkward breakfast, unsure of how to react having been so intimate with both of them the night before.

"Thank you Mikhail, for showing me the traditions of your village."

"This is a tradition practiced by all tribals in the wasteland John. It is considered an honour for a distinguished guest such as yourself to partake in our pleasures. To have one of your particularly stature is simply a bonus."

"I am confused, I am only a trader, I am not particularly high in any rankings." Amira giggled to herself.

"Ah, you misunderstand me John, I meant your physical stature, not any sort of symbolic one" John's cheek's immediately flushed, and he ate the rest of the breakfast, a simple bread and cereal affair, in silence. He quickly made his farewells and left, still a little unsteady on his feet. When he returned back to the caravan, he pledged he would not do Kite again, and that he would tell nobody of his experience whilst under its influence.

He was met with suspicious eyes by all of the members of his entourage, who had already eaten breakfast, and were preparing the caravan for the day's trading. Mercy had a scowl on his face, but the others seemed quite conspiratorially jovial about his night's activities. A few jokes were passed between Dignity and Justice, and John suspected that word had gotten round about what he had been up to. However, John decided it would be best if he just didn't address the issue, and hope it went away. He called all of them together, and attempted to restore some sort of order and formality to the ranks.

"Okay, today is a big test. Justice and Dignity, you will stand either side of the stall, with the rifles, and look menacing. That should hopefully scare anybody who would think of attempting to steal anything from us. Mercy, you and Shroud will stand behind the stall, and advise on prices of goods and bartering etc. Valour, you and Sunset will stand behind the stall, and handle transactions if and when they occur. Veracity, you'll stand in front of the stall, look pretty, and attempt to attract as many people as you can. First, lets get the caravan set up; Samson showed me a good place yesterday on the way to Mhotep's, so we can use that as our stall."

"Will do boss" Justice began to drag the boards form the caravan, aided by Mercy, that they would use for the front of the stall. Veracity and Dignity unloaded the wares, and Mercy brought forward the rifles, and began to load them with bullets. Valour and Shroud took a few Brahmin skins between them, and Sunset tended to the animals at the front of the caravan.

John took the pieces of metal that the people of Drainage had given to him, and arrayed them on the front of the bench, once it had been set up. He also placed the knives over to one side. Their varying lengths and dimensions meant each one was unique, and John hoped that this meant they would be worth a little more, since it product had been crafted by hand, and with care and adoration. Like Veracity had said, the Brahmin hides were where the real worth was, so he made sure he kept only one on display, leaving the rest behind the counter, so they could be brought forward if they were necessary.

The gecko pelts, with their different colours, and therefore the only real eye-catching part of the wares that were on offer, and so they were put around the stall, some on the floor at the front, and on either side of the counter. Mercy had informed him that they could probably sell one of the rifles, if it meant they could obtain enough ammunition to settle them down for some time. He wanted people to get a feel for firing with real bullets, and they would need a lot of ammo to do that, so sacrificing a rifle was worth it, in Mercy's opinion. The rugs and cushions were put inn such a fashion that they would attract attention, but John doubted anybody would be interested in them.

With his stall prepared, John was eager to begin trading, and people had already gathered as they had been setting up. Across the pathway, another trader had also put up his caravan, and so, between them, they had gathered a lot of attention. John mused that he was probably in for a very interesting day.

His coterie spread themselves around the stall, in the fashion that had previously been agreed. Immediately, Mhotep sauntered over from his house, in an attempt to break the ice between tribals and the new traders. The trader across the pathway already had a small collection of tribals browsing through his products, and he was probably a well known trader in the region. However, none had ever seen John before, and so treated him with more wariness.

"May I see you wares trader?" Mhotep bellowed in a very dramatic fashion.

"Of course elder, we would be thankful of your custom" John announced with the same pomp and circumstance.

Mhotep set to work inspecting the various accruements and accessories that littered John's stall. John noted that the other trader did not have nay wares from his stall, as if tribals were simply ordering things from him, and he went into the tent behind him and produced their item.

"What is the name of that trader over there Mhotep?" John stated, in a hushed tone.

"That is Adam, he comes around these places once every few weeks, and he is well known. A likeable fellow, but he drives a very hard bargain. Unlike you I hope" Mhotep added with a wry grin. John mockingly spread his arms in defence, "A man has to eat elder"

The tribal elder chuckled to himself, and selected a few rugs and cushions.

"These will do nicely, what do you ask for them?"

"In what currency do you deal trader?"

"We only barter in this land; we believe currency leads to hoarding and corruption."

"A wise concept, I am sure. We are looking for a replenishment of supplies, enough to get us to the market town, which I have been led to believe is a few days travel from here. If you could provide said supplies, I would be very grateful indeed."

"I see, one of those knives would make an excellent addition to my personal selection, very well worked craftsmanship. Enter one of those into the offer, and you have yourself a deal."

"I would be honoured elder, to enter into such a deal with you. Can you have one of your people collect your new rugs and cushions, and I will send one of my men to you this evening for the supplies? The knife, of course, you can keep with you now. I would keep its edge keen elder, its use is not purely ceremonial."

"I will heed your words trader, and yes, I will send my man over later to collect it. But alas, our time grows short; it seems you have more eager customers."

"I would speak with you later elder."

"About what John?" John paused, unsure of what he meant.

"My apologies elder, a problem with communication, in my place of birth, the phrase is a farewell saying between friends. It is not used often, but I do like it."

"I can see why, I would speak with you later John Trader" again, that name, it sounded so strange to John, but he accepted it anyway. He would talk with Mercy and Shroud about it later.

As things stood, they had their hands full; Mercy was demanding his attention, because he was talking a tribal brandishing a firearm. Obviously, he had become excited by the prospect of guns for sale. Veracity was already talking to a tribal with large muscles, in a very intimate fashion, and it did nothing to lift Dignity's dark mood. Shroud was speaking with another woman about fabrics, and the woman seemed very interested in the Brahmin skins. A few children were playing around with Justice, as their father was enquiring about the gecko pelts. Valour and Sunset were talking about the clothes that the tribals were wearing. One of the trader's entourage from across the pathway was vying for his attention, and John felt pulled in many directions. The joys of trading.

The woman who the trader had sent asked if he would deign to speak with Adam at the end of trading that day. She said Adam thought they had much to discuss. He promised he would speak with him, and she inclined her head and left. The days trading eventually did end, much to John's relief. He had never been so verbally assaulted before by so many people. Hands clamoured at good, and Mercy's grim stare was the only thing that dissuaded more than one would be rogue from making off with particulars from John's stall. However, he had been assured by Mikhail that any crime in the village was dealt with very severely, and as such there were few crimes committed.

Silica also passed by the stall, and purchased a large chunk of the metal pieces that John had brought with him. In return she gave him a small pistol with a round cylinder in the middle. She also placed half a dozen bullets next to it, and they were unfamiliar to John. Mercy remarked that the bullets were much heavier than those used in the rifles that they had brought with them in Drainage, and as such ammunition was not interchangeable between them. John thought all guns fired the same rounds, so this new information intrigued him. How many different guns were there in the wasteland?

The Niagara knights had briefly visited the stall, but had found nothing to their liking. The female from the night before again looked at him with the same questing eyes, but he took no heed, instead continuing his attempt to offload as much of the merchandise as possible for metal, knives, bullets, cloths and garments, and whatever else of value they could get their hands on.

Almost all of the stock, minus the Brahmin skins, had sold, and in its place, an entirely alien inventory was laid before John at the end of the day. The supplies the elder had requested for them had arrived, and baskets of bread and meats were piled into the wagon, enough for a feast tonight, with a promise of much more tomorrow to get them through the journey to the marketplace. John ensured everything was in order, told Mercy to create a roster for guarding the caravan that night, set Shroud to inventorying all of their stock and told Justice to accompany him to Adam's tent. One of his party had arrived and invited them over that evening for a small meal, along with directions.

Over the course of the day, the seamstress that Shroud talked to that morning had produced garments, that whilst not were quite as close fitting as what the rest of the village wore, were the right size for John. Although Justice and Mercy were able to get garments, and the women too, they could not find any in stock that would fit Dignity and Valour, because they were both too small. This added to Dignity's fearsome ire, until he worked himself up into a huge frenzy, going red in the face and storming out of the stall area. The woman who had given John Adam's summons was seen comforting him, and Veracity vainly attempted to hold back tears but it was obvious to everyone how hurt she was. Whilst Mercy immediately aided Veracity, cursing Dignity, John thought that it was fair enough. All day, Veracity had been flirting with other men, so it seemed only fair that Dignity could talk to another woman, especially when there was no obvious romantic intent. However, in the interest of keeping the camp harmonious, he kept his opinions to himself.

Seeing no quick solution to Dignity's problem, and finding no solace in sitting with Shroud whilst she meticulously counted the inventory, John grabbed Justice, who had been discussing rifle tactics with Mercy, and made his way over to Adam's caravan site.

It was easy to see that Adam had only just started as a trader, like John. His people were ill-equipped, and dressed in the similar clothes that John had come with. However, whilst John had rid himself of his clothes as quickly as he could, Adam had deigned to stay wearing the clothes that he had come with. His party, which was somewhat depleted at the moment, consisted of: himself, an old man with a round hat and a high brim. A very pretty, but young girl, in a dress made of heavy black fabric, but didn't quite cover here knees, it did make Justice's eyebrow rise. A tall, gangly, man sat with a strange contraption across his legs. It had bow-like shape at the front, curved, with the ends of the curve facing the rear of the weapon. There was a bar that ran the length of the weapon, and there was a trigger protruding from the bottom of the bar. A length of slim rope was tied from one end of the curve to the other, and there it was held taut by a small pole coming out of the top of the weapon. Clipped to the contraption was a miniature version of a spear, with a pointed metal front and feathers coming out of the back. It looked a mean weapon, but the man that carried it held it in such a fashion as to show that he had no real experience with it. It was crooked in the inner part of his arm, and if by some accident the trigger was pulled, the bolt would fly out of the weapon straight into his thigh. Mercy would not have been amused. However, John most definitely was.

The fourth person looked much more dangerous. A weapon similar to Valour's was strapped against his thigh, and a long slim blade was strapped onto his back. He held a hunting rifle in his hands; it looked identical to those that John used. He was not as old as Mercy, but older than anybody else that travelled with John, perhaps the same age as Shroud. The rifle rested easy, but the way he held it suggested he had had experience with it, and John did not wish to try him. The other member of the party that John had seen was the woman, who had invited him in the afternoon, and who was currently with Dignity.

"Hello, my name is Adam Merchant, and I welcome you to my camp." He bowed very low, and his hand flourished as he rose again. The old man snorted, but the other raised their hands.

"My name is John. This is my friend Justice. We have come from a town a few days travel from here. I am delighted to make you acquaintance Adam…Merchant." The novelty of calling people by two names had still not washed off on John.

"These are my friends, Robert," The old man grinned with a manic smile, "David," the dangerous looking man slightly inclined his head so slightly that John was almost unsure he had done so, "Peter" the gangly man with the weapon lifted his thumb towards the sky, the gesture was lost on John, who simply nodded his head, "and…Jessica" Adam's pause had been subtle, as opposed to Jessica's curtsy, the lowness of which made John feel very uncomfortable. Justice averted his gaze respectfully.

"We are missing Sarah but…" loud shouting had been punctuating their conversation for a small amount of time, but they had ignored. However, a gunshot had permeated its way across the air towards them, and it had come from John's camp. He looked at Justice, and they both began to race across the village towards their caravan. Many of the men in the village also ran with them, some hefting spears, but most just running to see the commotion.

More gunfire accompanied them as the moved as fast as they could to see what was going. None of the gunfire was automatic; it was only rifles cracking off at each other. At least that meant none of the knights had got involved, or else that could have meant more trouble than they could handle. Justice ran past John and span as a bullet caught him in the shoulder. Immediately, John slammed his shoulder against the side of one of the tents, almost snapping the pole in two.

A twig of bone had sprouted at the wrong angle from the bottom of Justice's neck. His shoulder hung loosely from its socket. Blood seeped out of the wound, sinking into the sand, creating a pool of hardened material on the ground which Justice lay on. The colour of the sand was a deep orange, quite mystifying as John looked at his friend dyeing in front of him. The bullet had hit something vital, and blood was spraying at a copious rate. Justice tried to turn and say something to John, but a wracking cough sent a spew of blood, and nothing else, at John. The blood splatted against his new clothes, and he could feel the life fluid of his friend as it drained through the clothes onto his skin. Justice clawed with his unhurt hand into the sand. He tried to drag himself towards John, and he caught the twig of bone on some bracken in the ground. The crack as he tore it free made Justice's eyes roll into the back of his head, and he slumped again onto the ground.

John had gone into shock, breathing heavily and seeing double. He could not move his legs, and his arms began to shake uncontrollably. He imagined Justice's blood entering his body through his skin. The taint spreading across him, decaying him from the inside. He sat against the tent pole, and his mind went blank. Something grasped at his shoulder, and with a cry he pushed the flat of his hand into the face of the man that had grabbed him. He saw the glint of metal and he slammed his left hand into the wrist of his assailant. The weapon fell away from the numb hand, and John lurched forward into the figure. His momentum carried the man over, and John straddled his chest, beating at his face with his fist. He hit him once, and cried out as his wrist was bent back from the force of the blow. He hit him again with his left hand, feeling the knuckles crunch as they made contact with the man's face. His third attempt, with his right hand, was nothing more than a feeble slap, the first punch having strained his nerve endings.

John gasped for air and looked down at his attacker. Mikhail's nose had been broken, and his right eye was bloodied and would bruise painfully. John realised who had been hitting and scrambled off of him. He heard Mikhail moan, so he knew he wasn't dead, but still he ran from the body strewn in the street. He tripped and fell, and almost screamed, when it was Justice's corpse that he had fell over. Again he rose to his feet and began to run towards the caravan. A bullet ripped past his ear, and slammed into a wooden fence behind him that encased the area where the caravan was situated. John rolled, and managed to land behind one of the wheels of the caravan, next to where Sunset was hiding.

He knocked her shoulder, and she fell forward into the sand. As he turned her around, he saw that two bullets had entered her stomach, and one had taken the left side of her face off, exposing her jawbone, and numerous teeth. A few still hung limp from her mouth, the force of the round travelling through ripping them from her gums. Blood had pooled underneath her, and John's hand had become submerged in it when he tried to roll her over. He quickly withdrew his hand, but it was covered in viscera, the inventory of her stomach clearly visibly mixed in with the blood. The oats and bread that they had eaten for breakfast had still not been fully digested, and he could see a particularly hardy piece of crust sticking to the blood on his hand.

On impulse, he wiped his hand down his tunic, but it just left a long smear across his chest, starting at his right shoulder and ending at his left hip. The blood still caked his hand, obviously, Sunset had been leaking for some time. She had been clutching a rifle, and John managed to prize it from her fingers.

Enraged, he put his head out to the side caravan. He could see a large tribal, with black tattoos along his upper right bicep, in the form of spirals. He was no more than 50 feet away, and the training he had received years ago from Mercy was put to good use. He raised the rifle to his shoulder, pain wracking his wrist where it was sprained. However, he used his left hand to steady the front of the rifle and looked down the sight. He took aim along the end of the rifle, the iron sights clearly visible in his vision. The tribal took on a blur as his aim was focussed on lining up the iron sights. The tribal was looting the corpse of one of the villagers, and had not noticed John.

John grimaced and pulled the trigger. He was met with a wet 'thunk'. The tribal looked up, and john quickly retreated next to the corpse of Sunset. He used his left hand to steady himself from falling over, and again became submerged in her blood and breakfast. He looked down at the gun and cursed as he saw that the breech mechanism had become caked in blood. Obviously, Sunset had leaked over her weapon when she had been shot. It was useless unless it was cleaned, and John had nothing like the required amount of time it would take to clean the gun.

Peeking around the side of the caravan, his hand still slick with blood, he saw the tribal advancing towards him, at a leisurely pace, with a grin on his face. He looked straight into John's face and stopped dead. He raised an eyebrow, and lowered his rifle. The right side of his chest exploded outwards, and the tribal collapsed onto his knees. He put his hands out in front of him, to stop himself from falling flat on his stomach. Another round tore into his left thigh, and he fell to the side, a nasty piece of fibula protruding from the wound.

John looked to where he guessed the shot had come from. His eyes met Dignity's, and he saw the fierce determination to finish the job in them. With a dagger that he had trader a number of the gecko pelts to acquire in his hand, he dropped the rifle and began to charge towards the downed tribal. John's eyes widened, but he was routed to the spot, still traumatised by the events of the last few seconds. Dignity ran fast, but he was still out in the open in a firefight. A bullet flew past Dignity, but he remained unfazed, resolute that he would kill the tribal. He closed the distance quickly between them both, and plunged his knife into the left hand side of the tribal, letting the entire blade sink into the chest of the man until it came out of the other side. The man's face registered the shock, and then his eyes glazed over in death.

Dignity stood triumphant, the back spray from the knife attack covering his face. A round took him in the knee, and he somersaulted in the eye, landing on his back. There was no shock or pain on his face, only a disappointment that he had been hit. John kept on staring. He could see right into the thigh of Dignity's right leg, the knee had been sawn off by the bullet. It lay some distance away, having done a few somersaults itself. He could see that it had been a messy shot; the few tendrils which had connected the knee to the thigh were dangling from the wound onto the ground.

The adrenaline gone, Dignity began to feel the pain. The screams added to the cacophony of the battle. John turned away, unable to look any longer. Unable to assist his friend, instead he made his way to the other side of the caravan and peaked inside. Shroud lay on a heap of rugs. She had got some cloth and had bandaged her thigh, but blood was seeping through the cloth. John stared at her wide eyed, and she replied with a serene smile, totally out of place. She looked down to the foot of the caravan, at a rifle which she had been unable to use because of her injury.

"It's nothing major, I'll live, go and look after the others."

John nodded, and grabbed the rifle. As he did so, another round flew through the caravan, and struck one of the side posts, easily passing through the canvas material. He ducked his head, grabbed the rifle and scrambled out from the inside of the caravan.

"John!" Mercy was sitting behind a wooden cart, occasionally taking shots over the top with his rifle, but he had at least two people shooting back at him, and so was unable to move. John began to move towards him, crouching in a low position as to present the smallest possible target that he could.

"No, stay where you are John, you won't make it over here" Mercy's voice was hoarse, but calm. He was not panicking. Unlike John, who was sure he had defecated himself, much to his shame.

"I will draw their fire, you shoot back. Do not fucking miss John. You hear me?"

John was unable to speak, and simply nodded his ascent. Mercy raised his head and his arms above the cart and cracked off a number off rounds into the bushes about a hundred paces in front of him. Two shots returned, and he ducked back into cover. John only saw the flash from one discharge, and he aimed his rifle, firing a round off out to where he thought he saw the light coming from. Is aim was way off, his arm shaking too much for him to actually hit anything. However, both shooters fired off rounds at the cart again, striking the front, but not hitting Mercy.

This time, John was sure he saw where the discharge came from. Steadying his nerves, he breathed in deeply. Letting the air slowly leave him, he looked down the sights. Much calmer, he loosed off a round, just as the last of the air exhaled from his chest.

He heard a cry from the bushes, and a rustle as the other shooter tried to pull him back from where he had fallen down into the open ground. Mercy shouted at the top of his lungs and charged towards the pair. The man on the ground was in no state to do anything about Mercy, but the other one looked up, with his eyes wide. He dropped the body, giving John just the opportunity he needed to fire at the man, whilst he wasn't moving, or in cover, it was an easy shot, and his chest caved in as the round past through his sternum.

Mercy leaped over the downed man, shot the tribal John had just hit, and carried on without losing any momentum into the bushes. Slipping back into reality, Dignity's screams became more pronounced. The battle had moved on somewhere else, and Jon collapsed onto the floor. The adrenaline in his body had passed out of him, and he had major shakes in both his arms and his legs. He managed to haul himself up onto the rugs in the caravan. Just before he passed out, he looked up to see Shroud's glazed expression. Blood had leaked out of her artery all over the end of the caravan, and the place looked like a charnel house.

Thankfully, sleep overcame John, and he slipped into the blackness.


	5. Aftermath First deaths

Chapter 5

John's body, a wreck of spent adrenaline, faecal matter, Sunset's lifeblood, cordite and a smattering of sweat, awoke from his daze. His head was a mess of greyness, and he felt like he had not slept at all. Although it seemed like the area around the caravan was quiet, he could hear gunfire from elsewhere. Groggily, he raised his head, and what he saw made him jump back many feet, out of the back of the caravan. He landed with a thump to the back of his head. Blackness overtook him again. Shroud's lifeless stare had not been the best wake up sight he had seen.

Concussed, John faded in and out of darkness. He heard gunfire, shouts and screams cumulating into a dizzying orchestra of sound. During one of his brief interludes of consciousness, he actually saw Mikhail battling a tribesman with the black tattoos on his arm. Mikhail look weary, and his face was a mess where John had hit him. Drowsily, he admitted that he couldn't feel any pain, but he was sure that would change soon. He chuckled darkly. Mikhail was hit in the face with a rock that the tribesman had held in his hand. He went down heavily, and crumpled at the feet of the man, the side of his face was beginning to bubble where the sharp edges of the rock had smashed aside skin and bone, and broken into the softer parts of his skull.

The tribesman had heard his chuckle, but sleep overtook John again. When he next awoke, he was being hefted over the shoulder of somebody, though he could not identify who. All he knew was that he was being lifted as if he weighed little, so either he had lost limbs, which he thought would be entirely appropriate given the way the battle had been fought, or the man carrying him had great upper body strength.

He passed a woman dressed in tattered cloths, nursing a wound that had carved a swathe down her side, ending just before it touched her stomach. The cut was deep, and had it reached her midriff, it would have surely opened her innards onto the sand and soil. She looked up at him, and smiled weakly. At least Silica had survived the fight. Instead of actually falling asleep this time, John fell into a type of awake coma. He could dimly perceive what was going on around him, but was unable to move. His mouth felt dry, and his tongue had been sliced by his teeth, probably when had fallen off of the caravan. Again, it didn't hurt, but the thought of the injury made John feel queasy. He must be in a bad shape if he could not even feel these injuries. The man carrying him, John guessed it was Stern, and the thought comforted him that perhaps another person had survived the battle who he knew, walked past a small encampment beyond the edge of the villager.

John heard the Knights getting quite angry with each other. They were obviously debating some subject. The man with the pistols was being quite animated with them, waving them around. The female was trying to calm him down, but she did not seem to be doing a fantastic job. The big man who had hefted the exotic gun was tending to a wound in his arm. At least they had participated in the battle; they may have even changed its course, given that they held such firepower in their hands. However, he did not get more than a passing glance at them, and so did not want to infer anything more,

when he was not in full possession of the facts.

Eventually, after seemed like what was weeks of travelling, he was put down on the floor, and covered with a blanket. He felt nauseous, and attempted to sit up, but the effort drove so much blood into his head that he blacked out on the floor. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head.

When he awoke, he was staring into Amira's face. This was more the type of view a man should wake to, John though, but instantly regretted the callousness of the comment. He felt a wet cloth on his forehead, and the effect was quite soothing. Amira's eyes were puffed up and bloodshot. Her face was stained where her tears had woven a tapestry down them as they ran off of her chin. She was trying to attend too his wounds, numerous scrapes and cuts, but her hands shook too much. He attempted to say something to her, but the necessary words seemed to keep slipping out of his mind.

Instead, he just uttered a sort of guttural moan, and hope she got the picture. Her eyes looked up at him in shock, and John was confused by the gesture, as if she assumed he should not even be aware of her presence.

"You find it hard to speak?"

"Ugh"

"That's okay, do not worry. I have given you a very large dose of Kite. It is a side effect."

"Ughots UghonUgh Ughth mUgh?"

She politely smiled. "What's wrong with you?

"Ugh"

"Well, the usual battlefield injuries for the most part, not much I can do about them except make sure they are kept cleaned. You sprained your wrist and broke one of your knuckles, doing Moon knows what. However, the biggest problem is the strike you took to the back of your head. We feared for your mind. Fortunately, the properties of Kite are well suited to curing such ails. I have been told by your friend that you did not have much of a mind to begin with, so there is no great loss." She said the last bit with a smile. However, the bottom lip began to tremble and she had to turn her face.

John wanted to say something to comfort here, but he was unable, instead he just gingerly placed his head back on the rugs underneath him and fell again into a sleep.

Instead of the greyness which accompanied the last time he had awoken from a Kite induced sleep, the world seemed aflame. Colours assaulted his vision, causing swirls as different shades swirled into each other, creating colours that John had never seen before. The objects seem to float, and hazy steam evaporated off of them. He saw a face he thought was Amira's peer down at him, and hold something got his lips. The liquid was alive with more flavours then John taste buds could comprehend, and he was sure that a few of them shut themselves down in defiance to what they were being forced to experience.

The world began to cool down. Obviously, the come down differed each time you partook in Kite, and the nature of the come down probably depended on the size of the doze given. Although painful reality had smacked itself into John's mind, he was able to feel every ounce of punishment his body had received in the battle, he was glad that he could perceive and think clearly. No longer was his mind cloudy as it had been. He was glad to know none of the effects were permanent. The thought that he could have lost his mind scared John more than anything of the other injuries he may have suffered.

"Thank you Amira"

"It is I who should thank you John. You participated admirably in the defence of a village had no personal stake in" John thought it was probably best not to mention that he was simply defending his caravan, not trying to save the whole village.

"Who… Who didn't make it?"

"That you knew? I am sorry John, you lost a lot of friends. The woman, she died of blood loss. She was inside the caravan when it was hit numerous times from the rifles. One of the rounds passed into her thigh, and hit a major transport of blood. The young man, the big one, he was shot in the shoulder. Blood and shock trauma caused him to black out. He was in a critical condition when we got to him John. I am afraid he is not going to make it. He is inches from death even now." John tried to stand and go to his friend.

"Please John, don't. You are weak, and will complicate any procedure that is being undertaken in an attempt to save him. Live our healers to do what they can, they are trained, those that still live."

John rested his head again, and let her continue.

"The girl, she had been shot numerous times. She was dead long before anyone got to here. The other young man, the smaller one, he lost his knee. We could not do anything about it, but Mhotep… he cauterised the wound. It has become infected, and we are doing all we can, but we are not sure if he will live or not. However, he will never walk unaided again. The other girl… she has been taken John. The raid was made in force, but they never intended to break through our defences. They must have just raided what they could and then retreated. The battle did not last long. Your man, the old one, he ran screaming into them. They got disorientated and ran. Don't worry, none of them hit him. However, he dived to the floor. He fell awkwardly and has broken his ankle. He will not be able to walk for some moons. However, they were able to escape with her, and he could not follow. Those bastard knights refused to give chase to them. They said they had 'other priorities'."

"So nobody actually got out of it unscathed?"

"Well, your small friend did. The boy, we found him in one of the tents, lying on the floor. It was… it was not the most honourable fighting stance, but he has survived, he is speaking with the man with no leg now."

John snorted at the way she described Dignity, the effects of the drug had still not worn off of him. The look he received from her was most disapproving.

"Go to sleep John. When you wake perhaps you will be in better spirits. I will bandage your hand whilst you sleep."

John complied, still feeling drowsy from the hit he received in the back of the head. Before he was completely overwhelmed by the void, he touched the back of his head, his hand ran across scabbed flesh, and John winced. What had he done to himself…

He awoke with a start, bolting upright. The rush of his blood to his head caused him to collapse again. He heard somebody giggle, and cursed his misfortune. Instead, he gingerly opened one eye. His vision swam, but it eventually coalesced into one person. Silica had her hand over her mouth, politely hiding the smirk he knew lay behind it. He winced at her right arm. Where before it had been smooth skin, it was know ragged flesh, still sagging from her arm. She noticed him staring at it, and quickly put it by her side, where he couldn't see it.

"Are you okay?"

"More to the point, trader, are you okay?"

"I'm not the one with skin falling off my arm."

"And I am not the one with skin falling off the back of my head. You look a mess."

"Thank you, such sweet words traveller."

"I try."

"…How many did you kill."

"You're new to this aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Only amateurs ask how many everyone has killed."

"Professionals just know?"

"Don't be stupid John. I hold life dear, taking it is no simple feat for me. Your mocking makes it harder."

"I am sorry Silica. How are my friends doing?"

"Mercy is annoyed. He snapped at Amira when she tried to tend to his ankle. If it hadn't been for her, it would have had to have been amputated. He is lucky Stern found him when he did."

"He has always been like that."

"You have been told about, what's her name, Veracity?"

"Amira said she had been taken."

"Yeah. The coward, Valour, well, he isn't too much of a coward anymore. He has been mouthing off about going after them, killing them, and rescuing the princess like it is some Pipboy fairytale."

"Pipboy?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you talk him out of it. He has the bravery of a baby gecko away from his mother in the dark. He'll get himself, and anyone he is with, killed if he goes after them."

"Will nobody go after them?"

"Mhotep has pleaded with the… with the knights to go after them." The scorn in her voice was self-evident.

"You don't think he will be successful?"

"Do you know anything about the Niagara knights?"

"A little."

"Enlighten me, please."

"They have huge guns. And combat armour."

"Hilarious John. Anything else?"

"The female one requires consoling." This actually produced a small smile from Silica, but she quickly hid it away.

"'Consoling', such an interesting term. I have heard it banded about. It is lost in translation so often that when it is brought up it almost always causes some type of inane humour. Especially in men who know its meaning. However, if you can't be serious John, then I shan't talk to you."

"I am sorry Silica. Please, tell me about them."

"They are a bunch of rogues. They found a weapons cache, somewhere up North, and they have been terrorising communities ever since."

"Mhotep seems to hold them in high regard."

"Like you so eloquently pointed out, their armament tends to get them lots of friends. People don't argue with a pointed at your back."

"?"

"It's a type of gun, John."

"Right. Moon! Speaking of guns…"

"Don't worry" she brought out the pistol she had given him the day before (at least John thought it was the day before, he did not know how long he had slept.

"I would have thought you would have put it to better use. Fortunately, it made its way into Stern's capable hands. He then transferred it, minus two bullets, into Mhotep's. It has quite a history. Perhaps someday I will explain it to you. However, Mhotep was more than happy to let me have it, and now I return it to you."

"Thank you Silica, perhaps next time I can actually fire a shot."

"I have replaced the ammunition, but now I am all out. It is called .38 calibres if you ever want to try and get anymore."

"You didn't finish telling me about everyone else. Sunset I know about, but what of Justice and Dignity?"

"Justice is dead. He succumbed to his wounds whilst you were out. I am sorry John, I knew you two were close." John had really only known him for the lesser part of a week, but he declined to comment.

"Dignity is alive. He won't be able to walk anymore, but he will live. You may want to talk to him soon."

"Thank you Silica, what about me, when will I heal?"

"Mentally, I haven't a clue, it's not my strong point. Your wrist will be a bit weak for a few days, but it will be fine soon enough. I just suggest you don't get into any other fist fights. How did you do it anyway?"

John didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to tell anyone he had consoled a man then drove him to the ground and smashed his face, then watched him die, all in the space of one moon. Some things are better kept to yourself, John concluded.

"I don't remember, the whole fight is a bit hazy if I am being honest."

If he was being honest, which he wasn't, he would tell her the fight wasn't hazy. Although Amira had washed him whilst he slept, he still saw Sunset in front of him, his hand covered in her entrails. He would tell her he saw Justice in front of him, the whole right side of his chest an absolute disaster area. He would tell her the feeling of emptiness he felt when he shot the tribal in the chest who was simply trying to drag his friend, it could eve, have been his brother, back into safety. The sickness in his limbs when he saw Dignity's leg detach itself and fly away from him. There was no haze in his memory, and he would always remember. But he didn't mention these things to Silica, because it wouldn't help either of them.

They sat silently for some time, before Silica announced that she had to go and attend to the other wounded, and that she would speak with him before he left. He wasn't sure if she was using his farewell, or if she actually wanted to speak with him. He realised how confusing it must be to try to understand somebody else way of speaking.

John laid his head back on the makeshift pillow, and began to close his eyes.

"You survived then?"

John squinted one eye open. Adam stood in front of him. He had a scar down the side of his face that he hadn't the day before; it had puckered, and ruined the chiselled good looks he was bestowed with a moon ago. John hoped his own good looks weren't ruined, and smiled wryly.

"You always smile like an idiot, or has that head wound knocked you silly like everyone has been saying?"

"I am sure we only met the day before?"

"You mean yesterday?"

"You are hurting my head. What can I do for you Adam?"

"I have a proposition."

"I am all ears."

"Actually, you have sort of lost a bit of your right one."

"You are not getting any brownie points."

"I have lost a few people from my caravan. David lives, but Peter, Sarah and Robert are all dead."

"I have lost friends as well. Did you not have a small girl with you?" Adam was silent for a few moments.

"Yes, we did. However, the Black Lotus took her."

"Who are the Black Lotus?"

"I am sure the elder will fill you in."

"Okay, however, as I said, I have lost a lot of friend as well."

"That is my point. Your caravan is absolutely battered. Its got more holes than Gecko in Razorhail."

"Razorhail?"

"You haven't travelled very far have you John?"

"Continue with your proposition, I think I see where you are going with it."

"Well mine is fully operational. Most of my stock of rugs and clothing has been burnt, but I still have an amount of weapons and ammunition. You have Brahmin skins and Gecko pelts, as well as bits of jewellery. We could combine our stocks, and become partner traders."

"I don't know if I still want to be in the trading business, if I am being honest with you Adam. Not if this is the sort of reception I receive every time I camp up."

"You must have known there would be dangers John."

"I guess you're right. I will have to discuss it with me friends. You should know, one of them is crippled for life; the other won't be walking anytime soon. Yet another wants to go off on some Grand Crusade. It's not the most formidable partnership you could ever enter into."

"Thank you for being honest with me John. However, my offer still stands. Make sure you have a word with me before you set off."

Something else to trouble his mind now. John rested his head on the pillow, and yet again was interrupted from his rest.

"You are healing?" the voice was deep and sounded like rocks falling down a mountain.

"Yes Stern, I will be fine. Thank you for your assistance."

"Thank the knights. I brought you here, they killed many Black Lotus."

"I thought the knights were bad people." This enraged Stern.

"Where you hear this?"

"Just rumour, that is all."

"Knights are good people!"

"Thank you Stern, I will keep that in mind."

"Mhotep will talk to you."

"When?"

"When you heal."

"Okay, thank you Stern, tell him I will visit him later."

"Sleep." Stern stood up and left, obviously content with ending the conversation so abruptly.

John didn't even try to rest his head this time. He noticed Amira walking towards him. She had been crying again.

"Are you okay Amira?"

"Yes, I am fine John, I just came to check up on you."

"I'm fine. I am sorry for not asking before. How is Mikhail?" more tears flowed from her cheeks. It was all the answer that he needed.

"Come here Amira" she meekly walked towards him and he put her hands around her shoulder. She collapsed onto him, and his head knocked painfully off the pillow, but he did not mention it. He tried to thin of something to say, but nothing came to mind, so he just lay with her instead.

It was actually quite comforting, and people gave them a wide birth, obviously thinking he was just trying to console her. John stifled a giggle; this was an inappropriate time for jokes. He was soon asleep again.

When he awoke, Amira had gone and the sky was beginning to darken. He slowly lifted himself up, and found he could walk, albeit with a slight pain in his head. He nodded to David, who was squatting on the floor looking miserable. The man walked over too him. Even his gait seemed to ooze violence. Not a man to be trifled with.

"Where are my friends? The old guy, the small guy and the one with only one leg."

"Charming."

"That isn't the answer I was looking for" David sniggered. Violence jokes were definitely his thing.

"They are over there, in the tent."

"Thanks. Adam told you about his offer."

"Yeah"

"What do you think?"

"We could use more guns. That old guy is a bit handy, but I don't see why he would take you on."

"You work for him?"

"Yeah"

"Where did you meet?"

"Take him up on his offer, and then we will have a heart to heart."

"Heart to heart?"

"God! It doesn't matter. Go over there, we can speak later if your still interested John Trader."

"I will speak with you later David…"

"I just said we would." John shrugged and walked away.

"Hunter!" John turned and looked quizzically back at David.

"What?"

"Hunter. My name is David Hunter."

John nodded his head and walked towards the tent. He rapt slightly on the cotton, in a vain attempt to make a sound, but decided just to enter instead. Mercy and Valour looked up at him, Dignity sort of idly stared in his direction.

"Here's the fucking hero!" Dignity's voice was slurred. "Heard it was you that found Veracity, or was it just you that put the fucking bullets in her, like you did Mikhail?"

Obviously, that had gotten round. It wouldn't make him popular, but he would deal with it as and when he could.

"Don't rise to it John, he is on Kite, he doesn't know what he is saying. He was delirious with pain, now he is delirious with drugs."

"What about you, I heard you didn't particularly fare amazingly either."

"I did my share. My ankle hurts a lot, but I can deal with it. Better that than being off my head on drugs. I am just showing Valour a few tricks with the rifle and his pistol. You want to join in."

"My head is too fuzzy for that type of thing. I do need to ask you something though."

"Shoot."

"We have been given a few propositions. Adam, the other trader, wants us to travel with him for awhile. S

tern says Mhotep wants to talk to me, so I think he may want us to do something else. Silica was getting a bit serious; I think maybe she wants us to do something."

"And I want to kill those fucking Black Lotus" Valour piped up, but soon fell silent when Mercy glared at him.

"I think I may be able to add to your conundrums gentlemen." The voice carried authority, and John turned to see from where it had come from. It was the boss knight, replete with holstered mini cannons. Those pistols truly looked brutal. Mercy nodded to him in the way he had seen him nod to the guards back home. It was something between respect and wariness.

"I would like to cordially offer you for the rest of your journey. We overheard you talking about it. We are going that way, so we can travel with you at least that far."

"Thank you…"

"Richard, Richard Stockbridge. I won't lie, we are recruiting, and we think maybe you are the sort of people we are looking for."

"Are you going to go after the Black Lotus?"

"We will definitely be investigating the matter when we return to Niagara."

"So you are just going to let them have her, and get away with killing all of these innocents." Mercy had attempted to silence Valour, but wasn't quite fast enough.

"Nobody is innocent boy, you should know that, there could be a hundred different reasons why they attacked, any one of them could be justified. However, one of me men was hurt in the raid, so we were forced to act in self-defence." Mercy snorted.

"A problem, warrior?"

"No, no problem here"

Richard nodded, seemed satisfied with himself and then left.

"Moon, another mess."

"I'll make my position clear John. I was ordered to stand guard around you. Whatever you choose to do, I will follow suit. You do have to take into account my ankle though."

"How come you snorted Mercy?" Valour's question was reasonable enough, and Mercy smirked.

"They were fucking devils. It's not just their weapons that make them formidable. I never even saw the female, but I could see people flying all over the place. Whatever she chambers in that gun of hers with, when they hit someone; it is like they take a sledgehammer to the chest at full swing."

"Where is this 'fucking' come from?" Dignity spoke aloud, before slumping back into his chair. "Mercy started it. Said it came from that guy with the pistols. Sounds cool: Fuck, Fuck, and Fuck" He giggled then fell silent.

"That isn't the point John. The big guy, the one with a machine gun…"

"Machine gun?"

"I am getting to that. Every time you fire with the rifle, unless you hold the breech mechanism back, you have to reload. Even if you risk fucking up the gun, you can only put out maybe 120 bullets in a moment. This guy could have fired thousands a moment the speed he was shooting at. He was mowing them down. If they hadn't been there, we would have been overrun, and all be dead."

"Probably for the best"

"Thanks Dignity"

"And that Stockbridge character. Absolutely fearless. I can't run as fast as I used to, but he just sprinted. Shot the fuck out of everything that had a black tattoo on their arm."

"Sounds insane."

"Sounds fucking insane" Veracity said.

"I think we have had enough with the fucking guys."

"We fucking haven't"

"Thanks Dignity."

"I am going to go and talk to Mhotep, Adam and Silica, then we can make a move."

"John, I was being serious, I am going after the Black Lotus. I don't care who comes with me, I am still going."

"How Valour? Are you a tracker, no? Are you even a fighter? I heard you spent the last moon hiding under a rug." John was angry, and knew he had gone too far.

"Shut the fuck up John" Mercy's voice seethed. John relaxed.

"I'm sorry Valour. We are just not equipped to deal with this. Mercy is fucked, Dignity wouldn't have been any use anyway, and I am not exactly a super-soldier am I?"

Valour was silent. John squatted next to him and put his hand round his shoulders, but he shrugged it away. Perhaps he had touched a nerve.

"We will eventually get back at them. We just can't do it now."

Valour eventually let out a sigh. "Your right John, okay. I will stay with you. But if I get a chance to get back at them," he gripped his pistol "I will take it."

"Okay Valour, that is honourable. I will speak with you later guys. You too Dignity."

"Fuck off"

John smirked and left the tent. Mercy and Valour seemed to be dealing with the deaths of their friends well, though Valour obviously had some issues. Perhaps it was just the Kite speaking, but it seemed Dignity had changed somewhat due to the experience. John shrugged and set off to Mhotep's tent. Along the way, he saw the female knight, though he couldn't for the life of him remember her name.

"Hello John, Richard said he had just spoken to you. What do you think of his offer, it would be good to spend some time around normal people again?"

"Yeah, I am definitely taking it under consideration…"

"Christine. It's good to know I made such an impression."

"Sorry, I have had a bang on the head. How come you want to travel with us?"

"Part of our duties. You're party is pretty messed up, the least we can do for you poor travellers is to assist you getting to where you need to go."

"Nice speech, any other reason?"

"Well, I think you're hot, but that didn't sway Richard's decision. I think he wants to recruit you, if I am being honest. Honourable blood is hard to come by."

"I count as honourable blood?"

"Richard is a good judge of character, and he likes you. He is also impressed with that old guy you travel with, though he is too old to join."

"What are the requirements of joining the knighthood?"

"Well, if you choose to travel with us to the tribal Market, then we can discuss it as we travel."

"En route."

"Excuse me John?"

"We can discuss it as we travel. You could say we can discuss it en route."

"Erm… I see. Thank you John, I will see you later?"

"I will speak with you later Christine."

It wasn't until a few moments after Christine had left that he realised that she had said she thought he was hot. An avenue he could pursue perhaps? John batted the thought away. She was a knight, and he knew nothing about them. The little idea he had glimpsed suggested they weren't all they appeared to be. John had rejoiced when he first heard of them, they seemed such a noble organisation in what would seem to be a desolate world, and he did not want his dream to be shattered.

Mhotep's tent loomed into view, and John entered. It was still curious to him how high the tents were here. In Drainage, to enter into a tent meant that a person had to crouch on their hands and knees to get in, whereas you could walk unhindered into these tents.

Inside, Mhotep was standing vigil over the body of his son, perhaps some sort of ritual that these tribals had. Mikhail's head was a mess. The rock had indeed penetrated his skull, and although his skin had been cleaned, the ugly purple underneath was clearly visible. It was standard procedure in Drainage for people to keep their hair very short, for hygiene reasons. This was obviously true of the tribals. However, Mikhail's skull looked naked and drained, the skin so white that the bone beneath was almost visible. John toyed with the idea of growing his hair to a length, to see how it looked.

Also present in the room was Silica, redressing her bandages in the light of the small campfire, naked from the waist up, oblivious to everyone else in the room. Stern sat across from her, attempting to keep his gaze from staring, instead stoically staring into the flames, but John could see his eyes creeping towards her, almost imperceptibly. And for good reason, her musculature chest and abdomen were indeed attractive, if a little masculine for John's particular tastes. The rest of her body was covered in swathes of bandages and rags. She saw him gazing at her and smiled.

"I present a suitable picture for you John?"

"A beautiful female warrior, dressing her wounds naked by the firelight, no finer scene of battle has ever befallen my eyes."

"Quite John, however, can you two please leave your lewd acts until I am done with my wake?" It appeared it was a ritual of some description, and John instantly took on a sombre pose. Silica, on the other hand, merely giggled to herself, and carried on dressing her wounds.

"Can you fill me in, elder Mhotep, on the events of the battle? I know nothing of it."

"There is a council preparing, can you not see? We await Adam and that bastard knight. I offered Mercy the opportunity to come, but he said he had more pressing problems, and you would give him the details later."

"The bastard knight has arrived Mhotep, and Adam as well"

John grimaced and turned. It was the first time he had seen Richard without his armour on. He wore a light shirt, cotton, which had strips of cloth that could tie together down the middle, instead of the shirt having to be put on over the head. His chest and stomach were on show. They were a few scars, but John was astounded by the lack of wear and tear to the man. Considering he had been a member of the knights for some time, if Mercy's rave about his bravery and courage was anything to go by, he was virtually unscathed. Idly, he thought if Catherine's body was this smooth and untainted. Unfortunately, he wasn't given the opportunity to dwell on the matter for too long, because, with everyone around, the war council had begun to get underway.

"They were Black Lotus. I have seen the bodies, and can attest to the fact." Mhotep kicked off proceedings.

"I have also seen the evidence. The tattoos are unmistakable, as is there strategy of a fierce, broad sided attack, followed by a raid. It fits with what the Black Lotus usually do." Silica offered.

"What say you knight? Black Lotus or not?" Adam stated coldly.

"Yes, I will say, at this preliminary stage, that it appears it was a Black Lotus assault on the people of this village. I will note it as such when I return to Niagara."

"You mean you are not going to avenge us?" Mhotep barely contained his rage.

"It is still unclear at this point, what the reason for the attack was. However, one of my men was injured by the attackers, so the matter will be dealt with most severely. That is all I can offer you at this time. The knights are a rational organisation; we do not gallivant into circumstances where we are not in possession of the full facts."

"Understandable knight, but I have still lost men to these people. Can you not aid us in a punitive strike against them?"

"I will not endanger the life of my knights on some foolish crusade. If you wish to send your own men off to die, then I give you free reign to do so. However, do not expect military assistance from us."

"Fine, go back to your ivory tower knight; we will attend to our own matters."

"There is still the matter of a debrief elder. This village seemed to be attacked by a force of upwards of 65 tribals. They were generally armed with hunting rifles and spears."

"I saw a few with pistols, maybe one or two shotguns."

"Thank you wych."

"Not here, please knight."

John was stunned by the machine gun interlude that seemed to be being passed off as some type of debriefing session. He was sure that Mercy would have a thing or two to say about the whole process.

"Why did they attack us first?"

"Excuse me Trader?" Stockbridge suddenly seemed very interested. Adam hid a scowl, Mhotep and Silica both muttered under their breath. John got the feeling he perhaps shouldn't have said anything.

"Why did they attack my camp first? That was where I heard the first gun shots. Was it because I had already met them?"

"What!?" Mhotep howled.

"Yeah, the night before we got to your village. One of them walked out of the undergrowth. He threatened me, sort of, but one of my men…" John had never called anyone 'his men' before "one of my men shot at him and he ran off"

"So this is your fault then?" Stockbridge's eyes looked like he was being sarcastic, but John couldn't be sure.

"I didn't know it would come to this. Who exactly are the Black Lotus?"

"Raiders" Stockbridge and Mhotep replied at the same time, though Stockbridge's was slightly sharper. Stern growled.

"They are not the good guys, that's for sure." Adam's voice was almost mocking.

"Yeah…" Silica's comment wasn't particularly forceful.

Mhotep took a breath, seemingly attempting to calm himself, and then moved over to a chest in the corner of his tent. He glanced at Stockbridge, and then removed something from the chest.

"This is a diary I have kept of raids from the Black Lotus."

"I will have to confiscate that, as evidence. I am sure you understand elder."

"Quite knight, of course. They started raiding these lands a number of generations ago. When I was a boy, not much younger than you, they began. They only come periodically. We do not know their exact purpose, other than death and destruction. They plague all of the lands around here. However, the benevolent knighthood hasn't seen fit to rid us of them just yet." The quip at Stockbridge wasn't missed, but he merely smiled.

"These things take time elder."

"Quite."

"Maybe it is just because they can't?" Adam's mocking shrill filled the room.

"Yes they can. Shut up stupid trader! Go back to your caravan!" Stern's voice shocked John. Even Mhotep looked disturbed by it. Silica giggled quietly to herself.

"Thank you for your support Stern. Of course, you are right. However, the knighthood does not want to fully commit to war with the Black Lotus without first proper prior investigation"

"Black Lotus have been at us for more seasons than you have been around knight! You still feel the need to investigate?"

"Yes, elder, we do. However, this is not why I am here."

"Quite. The debriefing. Silica, you were the first of us here to join the fighting."

"Yeah. I heard the first few gunshots and arrived at John's camp. They were rushing forward, and Mercy was being pinned down. I was going to engage, but told me to get the boy clear. And to make sure John didn't go there."

"Why not?"

"You are probably best asking him that John. I would have stayed, but he is a forceful man, considering he is of an elderly persuasion. So I took off. Before I left, Dignity broke off with that girl of his. That seemed to break up the attack, and they began running battles through the village."

"Did he kill anyone?"

"I thought I had already warned you about that John."

"I know, but this is important."

"Yes, he did shoot someone, I am not sure if he actually killed him or not."

"Okay."

"They seemed reckless, that is all I can say about them. As if they were looking for something, and didn't care how many they lost."

"Thank you Silica. Adam?"

"We got bombed. They were running through. David did his thing, and they just stopped. He thought it would make them run away, but they just took up positions all around the place. Someone threw a grenade into the gun cart, thankfully I had locked the weapons in protective containers, or I wouldn't be here right now. Unfortunately, it didn't stop shrapnel going everywhere. As you can see," He pointed to his face. "I can never look at a cart axle the same way again."

The joke was a bad one, but everyone, even Stockbridge, chuckled, more in pity with Adam than actually humour. The scars on his face were beginning to settle in. They weren't as bad as they had been when John had talked to him earlier, but they were not an improvement from the day before.

"Anyway, Peter and Robert got taken apart," Adam's voice wasn't even wavering, "You're friend tried to save Jessica, for that he has my gratitude John." John didn't know what he was talking about, but he was unwilling to interrupt him.

"Eventually, David managed to get the better of them, and they ran away. I tried to save Rob, Pete and Jess but the guys had been blown apart from multiple gun shot wounds, and Jessica had been hacked to pieces. After that, David went after them, and I… just stopped. I am ashamed to say I couldn't go on."

Adam began to shake, and Stockbridge strode over to him and grasped his shoulder, preventing him from falling over. He whispered something into his ear, and let him slump to the floor. Again, Jon was curious about whomever Adam was talking about, but he didn't think this was the time to bring it up. He was quite sure he must have been talking about Dignity, but he didn't want to say.

"Thank you Adam, I understand that that must have been difficult for you. Stern, you could continue for us?"

"Yes elder. The battle was ours. They had guns still in the grass around village. However, it had stopped inside village. Knights then led charge and killed rest of them."

"Erm… thank you Stern. Richard?"

"We were attempting to stay out as much as we could. After all, this was not our fight. However, Hulk had been shot."

"You seriously call him Hulk?"

"Yes John, we seriously call him Hulk. He called himself that when he came to us, you should ask him about it, not me. So we assaulted them, your man, Mercy gave us a hand. That is all there is to say really."

"Not quite"

"Something to add John?"

"When I got back to the caravan, I was looking right at one of the tribals. My gun had jammed," he didn't add that it had jammed with the guts of his friend in the breeching mechanism, "and I couldn't fire at the tribal. He could have shot me, but he seemed startled to see me. Is it because they had seen me before?"

"This is an interesting twist in the events Trader. It may have been the whole reason for the attack. Or it could have just been coincidence. In either case, I place you in the custody of the Knights of Niagara now. My offer is no longer such. You will come with us to Niagara, just so that we can be sure."

"Come on knight, you are in wild country now, don't think you can just wave a magic staff and abduct people."

"Is that a threat wych?"

"Nobody is threatening anybody, are they Silica?"

"No elder."  
"John, you agree to go along with the Knight? He can assure your protection."

"Yes, I will go with him, but I do not know about my friends."

"We can arrange transportation for them if you so wish."

"I will talk with them. We are done here?"

"There are a few things to still discuss, but you may go if you wish. I am sure if there is anything, we can talk later."

John nodded his assent, and left the tent. He head began to feel dizzy again. It was clear that the Kite hadn't healed him fully, he was still very tired. He walked back to the tent to meet Dignity, Valour and Mercy.

He sat down and faced them, and they fell silent.

"We have things to discuss."

Promptly, he blacked out, and fell onto the floor, his knees striking hhrda against the ground as he collapsed.


	6. hello and goodbye

Chapter 6

John opened his eyes and couldn't see anything. He panicked, thinking that perhaps he had gone blind. He felt for his eyes, and accidentally poked himself. He squirmed with the pain, and somebody must have heard him making the sound.

"Calm down John, its night time, we are inside; we thought lights make wake you up, so we decided not to make a fire." It was Silica, and John instantly relaxed.

It was probably not a good idea, he knew nothing about her, and had only spoken to her for the first time a couple of nights before he should still feel tense in her presence. Especially since he was blind. He didn't think of her as a healer though, and was surprised that she should be looking after him.

"Where is Almira?"

"She is busy looking after some of the other wounded. You are not the only hero of the hour John."

"But you are saying I am one of the heroes at least?"

"That bastard seems to think so."

"How come you don't like Stockbridge? He seems quite a nice guy. I am guessing you are talking about Stockbridge."

"Amongst others, yes."

"So why don't you like him. Supposedly he is some whirlwind killer."

"He told you that?"

"No, Mercy told me that."

"What did he say?"

"That he ran through the tribals; killed lots of them."

"People have a tendency to embellish stories John. And I would be as foolhardy as that knight if I was tooled like him."

"What do you mean?"

"If you get shot, the bullet smashes through ligaments, tendons, capillaries, bones, muscles and you probably die. If he gets shot that heavy duty combat armour makes sure he hardly feels the impact."

"He wears armour?"

"He hides it well doesn't he?"

"Do the others?"

"I haven't had a good enough look at them, but I doubt it. They are not Questing Knights."

"What?"

"It is a long story; you are probably best asking them. They could probably absorb more shit than a deathclaw on psycho."

"Psycho? Deathclaw?"

"Moonlight above John! How are you so naïve?"

"Protected childhood"

"Psycho is a drug. Makes you crazy, and basically unstoppable. Deathclaws are crazy and basically unstoppable."

"I see. So don't mess with Knights of Niagara. Point taken."

"I didn't say you shouldn't attempt to take them on."

"You are actually contemplating going against them?"

"Not yet. I'll wait until you mature first."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Silica giggled.

"I have to go and check on some of the others. Before I go what are your plans?"

"My plans?"

"When you leave here, what are you going to do?"

"I am not sure. I think I am going to the market with Adam."

"You would like company?"

"… the knights are coming."

"Ah, I see."

"Sorry Silica. Aren't you joining Mhotep? He will be going against the Black Lotus; surely you want to strike back at them?"

"Don't you?"

"I think I am done fighting for a while."

"I find that hard to believe John Trader. I will not be attacking the Black Lotus. That would be counter-productive."

"You are a strange woman Silica."

"And you John, are a strange man"

She bent over him, some how perceiving in the darkness, and kissed him forcefully on the lips. Could the woman not do anything gently? She then leapt off of him and left the tent.

John lay in the dark for a few moments longer, contemplating what had just taken place. His head still ached, and she hadn't told him why he had blanked out. However, the rest of him was healing very nicely. He could move his arms without them aching and he experimented with standing up. He got a blood rush to his brain for his efforts, and he staggered backwards, however, he managed to stay on his feet. He made his way shakily to a nearby tent, where he heard Mercy and Dignity talking to each other.

"Hello"

"Fuck off."

"How you doing John?"

"I'll live. Where is Valour?"

"Talking with Stockbridge. He has put ideas in the young boy's head. Bad ideas."

"Fuck! Where are they?"

"A few tents down. John?"

"Yes Mercy?"

"What are we doing?" John was torn between filling in his mentor, and saving his friend. It wasn't a particularly difficult choice.

"Give me a few moments to get Valour, and then we will discuss plans."

John stalked out of the tent, Dignity still brooding at him. He would have to sort that at some point. A few tents down, he could hear Stockbridge's charismatic voice. He walked in.

"I am interrupting something?"

"Not at all Trader, I was just explaining the tenants of the knighthood to your young friend. He seems very interested."

"That is fantastic. Valour, we are just discussing stuff in our tent, you mind if I borrow you for a bit?"

"Not at all John, I will speak with you later Stockbridge."

"Of course, I will speak with you later Valour."

That wasn't a good sign. They walked back to the tent in silence. Valour had a beaming smile on his face; John had a grimace on his. Finally Valour broke the silence, just as they were about to enter the tent.

"You are not happy with my talking with the knights?"

"It is your free choice Valour; I just think we haven't been 10 moons away from Drainage and we are already being pulled in 4 different directions. You are in shock from what happened, and I think you should wait a while before making any major decisions."

"It's what I want. Like you said, we are hardly prepared to fight the Black Lotus, but the knights are. They have weaponry, numbers, and Stockbridge says they will soon have the inclination to take the Black Lotus down. We can save Veracity John!"

"Does this have anything to do with Sunset?"

"No, it's more than that John. We have to think bigger than we have been doing. How many Sunset's will there be if we don't stop the Black Lotus here?"

"Okay Valour calm down. We will talk about this inside."

He opened the tent flap and gestured for Valour to enter.

"I like the idea of Mentor. Or Teacher. Maybe Guard."

"What are you going on about," At Dignity hadn't sworn at him yet. But he had only been in the tent a few moments.

"Second names." His voice was full of scorn, but it was a start.

"Second names?"

"Yeah, you have one so we were thinking the rest of us should have one as well." Valour had a big smile on his face.

"I don't have a second name."

"John Trader. That is what everyone has been calling you. That other guy, what is he called, the one that looks like someone has taken a gecko claw to his face?"

"Adam"

"Yeah him. His second name is Merchant."

"So you want second names?"

"I want Honour as mine."

"You seriously want to be known as Valour Honour. You know how stupid that sounds?"

"Hmm… okay what about Valour Vindicator?"

"We'll get back to you on that one my friend" So Valour was Dignity's friend, but John wasn't. Fine.

"What do you want Dignity?"

"Cripple"

"Don't be stupid. He was thinking on something along the line of Mourner."

"Dignity Mourner?"

"Dignity Mourn."

"That is quite cool."

"And you are thinking Mercy Guard?"

"And I can get Valour Vindictive."

"Be quiet Valour."

"Sorry Trader." John sighed; it seemed Trader was going to stick.

"Anyway, as fascinating as this line of conversation is, it isn't what I wanted to talk about."

"Okay, what is it you want to talk abut boss?"

"He isn't the fucking boss."

"Alright Dignity, calm down. Go ahead John"

"Our plan from here. The knights have sworn us safe passage to Niagara. Supposedly, they want to have a chat with us. I don't know how far it is from here."

"It is about a week's travel, I have been talking with Hulk. You should talk to him John, you'll like him"

"Thanks Mercy… How long is a week…?"

"7 moons John."

"Okay, well I say we go with them."

"That's great for you and Vindicator boy," Valour went red, "but me and Mercy might have a job keeping up"

"I think I can persuade Adam to come with us. You can ride in the caravan."

"Have you spoken with David yet? He is one scary fuck"

"Thanks Dignity, I'll be sure to check that one out. We are agreed then?"

"It gets my vote!"

"Thanks Valour"

"I have already made my position clear John. I'm going where you are."

"That is good to know Mercy."

"Well you are not fucking leaving me behind!"

"Alright Dignity, we won't be leaving you behind. I am going to talk to Adam. Can you manage the walk Mercy?"

Mercy held up a stick with a blunt end and a handle at the other end.

"A gift from Mhotep, but I think he wants it back. I can walk, but not fast."

"No more suicidal charges? A shame. Valour, you and Dignity need to come up with a second name that won't get us laughed out of every village in the wasteland."

"Will do John."

"Alright Trader go do your thing, we will be waiting for you when we get back."

John and Mercy left the tent, John in a grim stride, Mercy with a pitiful hobble. Before he had got very far a shadow detached itself from one of the tents and walked toward them.

"Hello Silica."

"You are on your feet? That is good. The Kite should be out of your system soon. Though it remains to be seen if you have any permanent damage. Anyway, I am leaving, things to do."

"I will see you again?"

"Is that another ritual goodbye?"

"No, that's a question."

"Yes, I can guarantee you will see me again John Trader." She walked up to him, slid her arms around is waist and kissed him again. And again, it was forceful, and not particularly enjoyable, especially with his muscles protesting at the effort of being squeezed.

"Thanks Silica. I will see you later"

She left quickly, Mercy sniggered.

"I would watch that one boss. She moves dangerous."

"She moves dangerous? What does that even mean?"

"You'll learn soon enough Trader."

"Don't you start with that fucking Trader business."

"I thought you liked it."

"I'm still warming to it."

Adam little encampment felt empty. He was staying in his caravan, patching up holes made when the ammunition cart exploded. David was helping him. He moved with unnatural grace, and John was enthralled by his gait.

"I think you are actually drooling boss."

"Fuck off Mercy"

"Fucking off boss"

John sniggered and called for Adam.

"Hello Trader."

"Hello Merchant." Adam smiled.

"These things are hard to shake of shake off once you get one."

"I am beginning to see that."

"What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering about your offer."

"And?"

"Other things have gotten in the way." Adam's smile faded.

"Ah, I see."

"Don't look too downcast my friend. I have another offer."

"Go ahead."

"I have no use for my wares you can have them. I require travel in your caravan to Niagara for my friends. They are injured and unable to make the journey without aid."

"So you want me to join you on your adventure?"

"The Knights will be travelling with us, and I have their word they will protect us."

"You mean they will protect you?"

"I am sure that is not the case Adam."

"It probably is worth asking though."

"Yes. But you will think on my offer."

"I will discuss it with David, and get back to you."

"I will speak with you soon Adam"

"Yeah, yeah. Nice phrase. Speak soon my friend."

"We will probably be setting off tomorrow Adam. Talk fast."

"Very funny John Trader."

John laughed to himself, then turned with Mercy.

"What do you think?"

"I like him, it would be good to get him on bored, and that David looks like he can handle himself."

"That is what I was thinking."

"Of course it was boss" Mercy smiled. "Where to now?"

"Stockbridge. Let's see how these knights fare."

"Yes boss"

They made their way towards the tent that the knights had erected for the duration of their stay in the village. Outside, Hulk was playing with a few reeds, his left arm still bandaged to his side where he had taken a bullet in the skirmish. He saw them approach, and gestured towards them.

"Hello friends. What can I do for you today?"

"Hello…Hulk. My name is John and this is Mercy. We were hoping to speak with Richard if that is at all possible."

"He is out. Went to speak with Mhotep about something, probably you. He seems to have taken a keen interest in your development John Trader."

"My development?"

"Not everybody gets an opportunity like the one you will have. I would think carefully on any offer that the paladin makes with you. Don't make decisions in haste, or else your road will be hasty and short my friend. I am just eating some bread; you will share it with me?"

John glanced at Mercy who smiled reassuringly. John had been living off watery soup for the last few days, and real sustenance made his stomach growl.

"We would be honoured. If you don't mind me asking before I eat your food, because I do not want to offend you, why Hulk"

"Poetic irony my friend. My size means that I am usually underestimated intellectually, and overestimated physically. I am happy to let the misunderstanding continue, thus Hulk."

"Very clever. You called Richard a paladin. What do you mean by that?"

"Where I came from, a knight of his rank was usually called a paladin. It isn't his actual rank, but it has sort of stuck."

"Where did you come from?"

"South, a long way South. The paladins were not quite the same honourable individuals that they are here. They were ruled by racism, bigotry and hatred."

"And the Niagara Knights are a paragon of virtue, and progressiveness?" Mercy's quip made Hulk's eyebrow rise.

"They are not perfect, guardian, but they are the best institution in the wastelands. And the only way it can be made better, its faults righted, is through the co-operation of new blood. New recruits bring new ideas, and of course the Niagara Knights offer something in return."

"Combat armour." John recalled the conversation with Silica.

"For one, yes."

"And for two?" Mercy really seemed to be pushing his luck with Hulk.

"We don't fire single shot rifles guardian."

"Touché"

"Excuse me Trader?"

"Touché. It means when a person has won an argument with a witty line. Something from my hometown."

"I see…"

"How old are you, Stockbridge and Catherine Hulk?" Mercy's question again made John cringe. The tone was so accusatory, and yet Mercy himself had said that John would enjoy Hulk's company. It didn't make sense.

"I am 34 years old, Catherine is 24 and Stockbridge is 28."

"How come he has a higher rank than you?"

"He has had more training, and longer time for contemplation than I have."

"Thank you Hulk, your bread has been most delicious. I think I see Richard over there. Do you mind if I take my leave?"

"Not at all. I am glad you have enjoyed yourself Trader. You will stay Guardian?"

"I will stay awhile."

Puzzled, John rose and moved towards the head knight, the paladin. Richard turned and spotted him, raising his hand in a gesture of friendship. It made John suspicious. He could see that Stockbridge no longer had his pistols with him, only a long, thin, sword which ran down his left thigh, the scabbard a battered leather thing, which seemed to be the only part of Stockbridge's person that wasn't cracked and torn.

"Nice sword."

"It is a sabre John, not a sword."

"My apologies. I just talked with Hulk, he is a clever man."

"That he is. I wouldn't cross him though, he has a man temper, and his repertoire of words can hurt just as much as this steel." Richard gestured towards his weapon.

"I will be sure to stay out of his way then. I have come to tell you that we will be travelling with Adam and David, at least as far as the marketplace, if not all the way to Niagara. That is a problem?"

"Not at all, Adam is an honourable trader, if a little cynical round the edges. So this means you will be travelling with us?"

"Yes. When would you ask us to be ready to leave?"

"Is dawn tomorrow reasonable enough for you?"

"Yes paladin. We will be ready."

"John Trader do not call me that again. I put up with Hulk saying it because he is a close friend, at this time you are not. Understood?"

"Yes Richard, I am sorry if I offended you."

"No offence taken, Catherine would dine with you this evening, I think. Take a bath, I will prepare the tent and ensure me and Hulk eat somewhere else. Since you have little suitable clothes of your own left, I will supply you with some appropriate attire I will Hulk drop it off when he has finished talking with Mercy."

"Stockbridge?"

"Yes Trader."

"Hulk kept referring to Mercy as guardian. What did he mean by that?"

"Where Hulk came from, youngsters were frequently protected by older member of the community., they were called their guardians. He sees Mercy as your guardian. That is all."

"Thank you Stockbridge I will dine with Catherine tonight, if she so wishes."

"You do not wish?"

"I didn't say that Richard"

"Of course you didn't John. I will speak with you later" With a rueful grin, Stockbridge span on his heel and left towards the tent where Hulk and Mercy were talking. At least he would spend one night in good company, without hearing that confounded 'fuck' every three seconds, and with a woman he quite liked. Perhaps the evening would end in a consolation, though he wasn't sure of the customs in these parts, and was considered ungentlemanly to console with a woman after only one formal meeting. Although he didn't query Stockbridge directly, he wondered if there would be a chaperone involved, as was the tradition in Drainage. Somehow, he didn't think so, and he most definitely didn't hope so.

John made his way back to the tent, thinking it was perhaps the time to talk with Dignity and Valour. On his way he spotted Mhotep, and resolved to tell him that he was leaving.

"Hello elder."

"Ah, hello there trader!"

"I have something I must speak to you about."

"Of course, ask away what can I do for you?"

"I have decided to follow your advice; I will be departing with my friends, and Adam and his friend with the knights tomorrow." Mhotep paused for a few seconds.

"That is good news John, it is good to know that you will be in safe hands."

"And what will you do?"

"What we always doo after this type of thing happens. I am too old now to have more children, but I have a small daughter to care for, and now I can devote my full attention to her."

"And… what about retaliating against the Black Lotus?" Again, Mhotep paused.

"John Trader, I am an old man. The vigour I showed against Stockbridge in my tent was done out of anger, in the presence of my dead son. Even that left me drained. I cannot again lead my village into battle, risk losing more lives. With the backing of the knights, Silica, or even your help, I perhaps could have gotten the spirit I needed to strike back against the raiders, however, on our own it would be a fool's mission. Better to rearm and reequip, so we are prepared for their next attack."

"But surely elder, if you do not attack them, they will continue to whittle you down until there is nothing left."

"I fear you are correct Trader. However, what would you have my do, I do not have the resources to mount an expedition against them. It seems I must be resigned to my fate."

"I am truly sorry to hear that elder, you have been so kind to me. However, even if I chose to assist you, I would not be that great an asset. My friends are either too crippled or too cowardly to be of any assistance, and I am but one man. I trust fate is a better friend to you in the future."

"Thank you John. However there is something else I wished to offer you."

"Yes?"

"Your friend, the one with only one leg. He is still in dire need of rest, he still yet may be taken by the demons of the wasteland, and I doubt he will survive the long journey to Niagara. I am willing to offer him sanctuary here until such time as he deems himself ready to leave."

"Thank you elder. Your kindness is more than I deserve. I will ask him, and see what he says. I will speak with you before I leave elder."

"I look forward to it John Trader."

John made his way back to his tent, pondering Mhotep's offer, as well as his predicament. There was no way he could fight the Black Lotus on his own, and Stockbridge seemed unwilling to fight against them. The fact that Silica was also unwilling to help Mhotep confused John further, she seemed so willing to protect the village from attack, but was unwilling to punish the attackers. It didn't seem to make any sense.

He could hear voices coming from the tent, and contemplated drawing his gun. However the voices coalesced into women's laughter. And hiss gun was in the tent anyway. Dignity had actually told a joke. 'Fuck me' John thought, and giggled to himself. That word was infectious.

"Hello guys."

"Hello John" Valour beamed.

"Hello Fuckface" the girls giggled again, maybe that word wasn't as good as John had first thought.

Dignity was propped up on a bed of cushions, and 3 tribal women, no older than Valour were fawning over him. John couldn't decide whether he was sick or jealous. Valour saw John staring.

"O yeah, he is a big hero now. Still high on Kite."

"I see. You mind if I have a word Valour."

"About what Trader?"

"About what you did during the battle"

"Leave the kid alone Fuckface." He preferred Trader.

"I am being serious Valour,, a few minutes of your time?"

"Sure…sure boss."

Valour stood up, concealed the pistol in his waistband and followed John outside the tent.

"You weren't at the caravan when the attack started, what were you doing?"

"I was just talking with one of Adam's friends."

"Jessica, the nice girl?"

"Yeah."

"Valour, what did you do when the shooting started?"

"I was so scared John."

"I know Valour."

"I…I fell on the floor, over the top of Jessica. I tried to protect her. These two bad guys walked up to us both, kicked me off of her and plunged there spears into her. They were laughing John. Actually laughing."

"What happened next?"

"I had the gun in my hand. I had forgotten about it. I could have saved her with it John."

"I know my friend. Please continue."

"I shot them. With everything. My first shot missed, and they started to run at me. They were so big John; there was no way I could have missed. The next 7 shots just slammed into them. They didn't even try and get out of the way. It was sickening. Then I saw Jessica's blood start to leak into theirs. I couldn't take it. So I ran."

"Who have you told about this Valour?"

"Just Dignity, but he was absolutely out of it. I don't think he remembers anything."

"You seem to be alright with it now. You sure you are okay?"

"I cried in the tent when I was found, I can't even remember who it was by. But you are not the only one with training John. I know how to deal with this stuff." Valour was getting defensive.

"Okay Valour, that's cool. It's good to know I have another piece of firepower backing me up. Especially now Mercy is bummed up" Valour and John laughed together and John extended his hand.

"Good lad, let me congratulate you, then we will never speak of this again." Valour clasped his hand.

"Thank you John."

"Right, let's get inside, see if we can drag Dignity away from his harems."

"Harems?"

"I'll tell you when you are older." John paused and looked at Valour. "They are like whores Valour. Bad joke."

Valour giggled. "Not the worst I have heard today."

John remembered Adam's joke. "Yeah, me neither."

They entered the tent, smiling, and Dignity had obviously expected the conversation to leave Valour less than brimming with confidence. He visibly relaxed. 'Man of little faith' John thought.

"I have a date"

"Impressive stuff. Who with?"

"Catherine?"

"Don't make people up to go on dates with Fuckface. It is unbecoming."

"Well obviously, I can't match your attentions," the girls reddened, "However, she is a knight."

"The lady knight, I am actually impressed John. Unless you are lying."

"I wouldn't dream of it John. In fact, clothes will be being sent over soon. What are your plans for the evening?"

"I think you can see my plans" now the girls blushed more than John had thought would be possible.

"I am getting drunk with Mercy and Hulk. They invited me before."

John questioned the wisdom of such an idea, but held his opinions to himself.

"That's great, that means I won't be disturbed."

Mercy entered the tent and eyed up Dignity's entourage. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I am not your clothing boy Trader." Mercy smiled at his comment.

Mercy dumped the clean, pristine clothes onto John's sleeping mat. They consisted of a pair of cotton trousers. They were jet black, with a line of white sewn into the leg. The shoes on top of the pile were sturdy black ones, made of Brahmin skin. John doubted their practicality in combat, but he couldn't deny that they looked good. On top was a shirt of the same design that Stockbridge wore. It looked like a bathing robe that some of the elderly of Drainage used to cover themselves during bathing in the pure water pool that was the reason for the town's founding. However, the rope had lengths of string running between the left and right of the shirt. If tied together, they would cover his chest and stomach. Whilst the shirt itself was dyed jet black, and made of cotton, the strips of cloth that were supposed to be tied together were white, and made of some type of shimmering material. Lying by their feet was a glass bottle, holding some type of red liquid.

"That is wine, whatever that is; they make it at Niagara, a special vintage."

"What does that mean?" Valour seemed very interested in it.

"That means you get fucked faster."

"I think so. Anyway it is a gift from Stockbridge, for tonight. He says to tell Catherine she is off duty."

"Told you she was real."

"Whatever."

"You mind if we have a word Mercy?"

"Not at all. Outside?"

"If you don't mind."

They walked outside, and Valour attempted to infiltrate the coterie that Dignity had formed.

"I was talking to Silica during the debrief in Mhotep's tent." Mercy's brow furrowed.

"And?"

"She said you told her to make sure I didn't get involved in the fight. Why?"

Mercy exhaled a deeply held breath.

"I have orders to protect you John. Making sure you don't run into a firefight is conducive to my orders. Therefore, I make sure you are not there."

John thought there was more to the story than Mercy was telling, but he didn't have want to enquire too much. Mercy seemed in a good mood. John decided to change the subject.

"I heard you were going to get Valour drunk tonight. You think it is a good idea? Considering what he went through?"

"You have spoken to him about the battle?"

"Yeah. How do you know?"

"I was talking with David whilst you were getting debriefed. He told me everything he saw. Hulk is something of a battlefield psychologist. He thinks getting Valour drunk will allow him to mend him somehow. I don't now if it will work, but it is worth a shot."

"Fair enough. I think I see Almira, I will speak with you later Mercy, thanks for bringing my clothes."

"Not a problem, just don't expect it to be a common occurrence." John giggled and made his way towards Almira.

"Hello Almira."

"Hello John, I heard you had a date tonight." John wondered if she was jealous or not, and the thought made John wonder. However, there was nothing he could do about it now, she already knew, any damage had been done.

"Yeah, I do have a date."

"You look like shit."

"Shit?"

"It means bad." John thought he had found another word he would like.

"Thank you for the compliment."

"I will run you a bath and bathe you if you so wish, and apply some scent to cover your odour."

"I have odour?" John resisted the urge to smell himself.

"You have been in combat, and haven't properly washed since, death hangs around you. We will get rid of it. It is just a shame your hair is short, or we may have been able to do something about it."

"I was thinking about doing something with my hair."

"It will suit you, I think."

"Okay, when do you want me to come to your so I can bathe?"

"I could do it now for you if you wanted."

John wondered if it was wise getting naked near Almira when her husband had so recently died. However, she had already healed him, and no doubt seen him naked then, so there was nothing to lose.

"That would be fantastic."

As they walked, John struggled to find something to talk about with her.

"How does the village fare after the attack?" He knew it was a bad question to ask, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He could have called it a shit question, but he thought laughing after asking that question would only add insult to injury.

"We have about 20 injured people. 8 died, not including any outsiders." She looked at him, and must have realised that the word was quite hostile.

"Sorry, I meant no offence. We call everyone not from this village outsider. The Black Lotus have at least 15 dead, though there are probably much more injured. Neither side could be said to have won, though the question of whether anyone wins in this type of situation is a good one."

John thought he would file that one away to discuss with Hulk later.

"There were no prisoners from the raid?" He knew he should just quit whilst he was behind, but he felt the need to talk this through with her more.

"Yes…Stern has them. We are here now; please eat some bread whilst I prepare your bath."

John ate some of the proffered bread and sat down, waiting for his bath to be run. An interesting evening to say the least and the fun hadn't even really started yet.


	7. Dating and Violence

John sat in his bath, feeling the warm water run over his skin, He could still observe the myriad of scratches and bruises that pockmarked his skin. He had never scared before, and wondered how many of these would develop. The water burned where it ran over his wounds, and yet John kept swilling himself. The pain was a reminder of everything he had lost since leaving Drainage. He liked to think it kept him human. An anchor in reality, that was what mercy used to call pain. Lets you know you are still alive. They sounded idiotic to John now; however, they were idyllic and inspiring all those years ago.

"I have prepared your clothes for you. Would you like me to dress any of your wounds? Are you bleeding anywhere?"

"No I will be fine, thanks Almira. You have been very kind to me. Do you not have your own household to care for though, more matters to attend to?"

"Friends are more important that any structure or formality John."

"Thank you Almira. I could stay here all night, but alas, I have to leave."

"Yes John. You will return before you leave the village for good."

"Of course Almira. Some privacy whilst I dress? I will speak with you before I leave for good."

"Goodbye John." The farewell perplexed John, but he thought it was just another strange facet of the wasteland for him to learn. Tribal language…

He stood and put on the attire that Stockbridge had laid out for him. It fitted fairly well, considering that Stockbridge was a deal bigger than John, in terms of muscle, if not height. He wondered whether he should wear a pistol. The etiquette of the situation was put second in his mind; he would not be caught without a weapon again, no matter what the circumstances. The pistol that Silica had given him would do nicely, now with a nice compliment of full ammunition.

He strode into the area where Almira was quietly making herself dinner. He touched her shoulder and said, awkwardly "goodbye"

"Goodbye John, I shall see you tomorrow."

Before anymore awkwardness ensued, John left the tent behind. The walk to where he had planned to meet Catherine. The tent they would meet held a faint glow. Inside were a few candles, wax made from animal bone, and a selection of breads and sauces. On the table sat a card:

'From Mercy. Someone who knows how to treat a lady.'

John sniggered to himself, and picked the card up and placed it in his pocket. He sat down and poured the jug of wine that Richard had given him into two clay goblet that had been set out on the table. He wondered how long it would take her to get here, and what he would talk about. The wine tasted rich and strong. It was thickly laced was some type of fruit that John couldn't place.

When she did eventually enter, John audibly gasped. He knew there would be none of the extravagant dresses, with shoulder straps and midriff coverage like sometimes happened at Drainage. He hadn't expected such a perversion of combat fatigues though. She was wearing trousers which clung to her legs, accentuating the muscle underneath. Her top was a simple layer of under armour, with a flower sewn into the top right of her chest. On her feet she had on sandals, instead of boots and she was wearing some type of fragrance.

"I hope I don't disappoint. Hulk made the additions to my outfit, I am not sure if he got it right or not." She spoke with the sort of cockiness that stated she knew that she looked good.

"You look most acceptable Catherine. Please, have a seat."

As was customary in Drainage, he arose and brought the chair back for Catherine, the surprise registering on her face told John that this wasn't a custom that she was used to, and he thought that she enjoyed it.

"We have been given some wine from Richard and he told me to tell you, you are off-duty of something."

"Yes, he has spoken to me."

"So he has doctored what you are allowed to say and what must remain silent?" Catherine giggled.

"What does doctored mean?"

"He has told you what you can and can't say."

"Ah, I see. No he has told me to be totally honest, as long as it isn't totally secure information. You are not getting the code to Niagara out of me John, but apart form that, anything you want." She said it with a brilliant smile on her face, that made John suspicious.

"So tell me about yourself John. You killed 2 people a few days ago, and you haven't beaten an eyelid about it."

"Direct woman"

"Thank you."

"Mercy, the old guy, when I was a small boy I used to spend all of my time around him. We would go out together when he was on patrol, or sit on the wall and talk. Eventually when I was about 5 or 6….years old, he taught me to shoot. Then we just sort of grew away. My brother never liked him, and I generally preferred hanging around with my own age. But he wasn't always the relic he used to be." Catherine giggled politely.

"What about you. How does a cute woman like you end up in a scary outfit with a big gun?"

"Tribals come in all shapes and sizes John."

"You were a tribal?"

"Yep, but from way further East. I was following a band of raiders, about 6 years ago, they had attacked my village. We made it all the way to NYC, and was pursuing them through the countryside. When we finally came upon their camp, the knights were already attacking them. We attempted to join in, but they warned us off. When it all blew over, I started talking with them. They must have liked me, like we like you, and they invited me to Niagara."

"So you left everything behind to go with them?"

"Yeah, and given the option, I would do it all over again, the opportunities I have been given by the knights has far surpassed anything I would have got had I stayed with my tribe. I would have never met Hulk for a start, he is like my favourite big brother."

"And you wouldn't have got a kick-ass sniper."

"Precisely, I like the way you think… Have you thought about your plans?"

"I thought this was a date, not a recruitment exercise." John smiled. Catherine placed her hands over his, and stared at him in a sultry fashion.

"It's a date John, don't worry about that." John noticed that Catherine had drained her goblet. He wondered how often she got to drink, because it seemed to be affecting her quite significantly. However, thinking his luck was in, he refilled her cup.

"Well it seems I have been accosted into going with you, so you will have to put up with me for a little while longer at least Catherine."

"Such a shame…"

"And then when we get to marketplace, I will make my decision from there. However, I think Richard wants me to go back to Niagara. Something to do with the Black Lotus."

"Okay. That sounds like a good plan" she smirked, knowing exactly that that was what he was going to say.

"Do you have anymore of those types of outfits?"

"I don't generally go on patrol with them John. This is a long one, so this just happened to be a set I managed to smuggle in because we were all taking Bergen's. However, back at The Falls, I don't have much better. The knights think such things frivolous John. And so should you" the sarcastic accusatory tone held a hint of threat to it, which confused John.

"I wouldn't think of it. It was just professional curiosity."

"Quite. Dalliances such as that are punished severely within Niagara. "

They both paused for a second, both realising they had been drinking much too much whilst talking, and that was probably why the discussion had taken a macabre turn.

"So Hulk," John hastily tried to change the subject. "He is much more than he seems. Tell me about him."

"Hulk is an enigma. Whenever anyone has spoken to him, he puts on such a gentile exterior. He is full of romance and philosophy. But when he loses his temper, he flies totally off the wall, and he can do it at the strangest things. Unpredictable, that is how I would describe Hulk."

"But he seems so rational all of the time."

"He tends to like people being angry with him though doesn't he? He calls it 'banter'. I haven't ever heard anyone like that sort of thing."

"Banter?"

"Taking the piss out of each other."

"Sounds like fun."

"It isn't. When Richard indulges him, they say the meanest things, and seem to love it."

"Maybe you have just misinterpreted the meaning."

"Maybe."

"Where does he come from, Hulk I mean."

"He came from down South. He had a run in with the wrong organisation. They were supposedly a knighthood like ours, but they had none of our ideals or motives. They were driven by racism and elitist superiority."

"Whereas as the knights are much more down to earth?"

"Exactly John. We even dine and date with the locals."

"Is that all you do with the locals."

Catherine giggled.

"No, John that is not all we do with the locals." She sniggered "Sometimes we have to shoot them."

John didn't find the joke particularly funny. But he laughed politely nonetheless. Catherine had clearly drunk too much, and John was sure in the same situation, he would probably make a fool of himself as well.

"Now to the big question. Mr. Stockbridge, what is the deal with him."

"He is my hero."

"Your hero?"

"Yeah. He used to patrol a fringe area where my tribe would inhabit for a few weeks a year. I was only a child then, but he was already a hotshot within the knighthood. You are probably best talking to him about his past, I don't want to blab anything, and it turn out to be not true or whatever. Truth is another big tenant in the Knighthood."

"So you are honour bound to tell the truth?"

Catherine drew her fingers up to her throat as if they were knives ready to slit her.

"As the moon is my witness, I shall tell the truth."

John was in a precarious situation. They had only been talking for about 30 of the so-called 'minutes' and he thought it would be ungentlemanly to attempt to console her at this point, and he didn't know what tradition was amongst her tribe. However, he hoped she was drunk enough that she wouldn't mind. So he took a gamble.

"So you want to sit her all night or do you want to go back to your tent?"

Catherine looked taken aback for a few moments, and then a sly smile overtook her face.

"Okay John Trader, I accept. Though maybe we should eat this food first, it had been laid out with the best intentions in mind." She giggled like a little girl.

They began to eat, but their eating got messier and messier as they both sped up the eating process, eager to get at each other. Within another 10 minutes, the food had been demolished. Catherine filled up John's goblet, and took the rest of the bottle for herself.

They began the journey back to her tent. They passed Hulk and Mercy, still talking, and the sun had left them for the night. They used the drop in temperature as an excuse to put their arms around each other, but the knowing glance that passed between Hulk and Mercy said quite clearly that they hadn't fooled anybody.

As soon as they got into the tent, which Stockbridge had conveniently vacated for them, Catherine pushed John onto the rugs and straddled on top of him. Although things were progressing at a quicker rate than John was usually used to, he didn't complain, and let Catherine do what she was obviously very experienced in doing. He wondered wryly if this was part of the knighthood training, then let the ecstasy roll through his body.

She had successfully taken his top off, and was caressing his chest and abdomen with his tongue, when a round billowed through the tent, followed by a gust of wind. Catherine yelped and rolled off John, the drunken attitude leaving her instantly. It made John suspicious as to her drunkenness in the first place, but he decided he had bigger things to worry about just now. He retightened his trousers, and groggily stood up.

Catherine had already grabbed a rifle, and shoved a pistol into John's hands.

"I am guessing you know how to use this John?"

John's head hurt, the dizziness of the days before coming back to him. He just wanted to curl up and go back to sleep, however, a sharp loud repetitive bark broke his train of thought. Hulk and got his weapon loaded.

"I better go and help him, you stay here, and stay quiet, we can deal with this."

She struggled to put on her armour, and decided it better only to use basic protection, not the really heavy stuff that she had had in the last battle. John was still dazed. Catherine left the tent. A curved scimitar passed through her right lower abdomen, piercing her kidney and splitting her liver as it passed through her. John knew none of this, but he heard Catherine's gasp as the sword ripped through her vital organs, and the gore on the end of the blade as it entered through the tent flap. The weapon was withdrawn ruthlessly, and Catherine fell to her knees. A slight female hand slapped Catherine across the face and she slumped to the floor, her lifeblood spilling around her.

John raised his pistol, and saw 3 identical female shapes walk into the tent. The face looked familiar but he couldn't place it. He fired once, and it had been at one of the phantom targets because the female(s) kept advancing. Before he had the chance to fire another shot, the figure grabbed his right wrist with her left and squeezed with such strength that John was forced to let go of the gun. It dropped to the floor silently, its fall cushioned by the rugs. As the pistol fell, the right handed tightened around the haft of the scimitar and it struck him a forceful blow to the head. He fell to the floor, struggling with consciousness. The face he was looking at snapped into view. It was Silica. She had an angry snarl on her face, and her teeth were raging.

"You shot at me, you idiot."

"I thought you were the bad guys" John spluttered between cracked lips, blood flowing where he had bitten himself when he was hit.

Silica hit him in the ribs with her left hand, it felt like a sledgehammer blow. He coughed again.

"Get up John, you are going to have to come with me, I can't let those bastards take you."

She dragged him up, and John was in no position to resist, he was certain that one of his ribs had been broken, or at the very least seriously bruised. They walked through the tent flap, right into the scene of a skirmish. At one end of the street, Hulk and Mercy were firing from their tent, one with a large automatic rifle, the other with a semi-automatic version of the hunting rifle that John brought with him from Drainage. On the other end of the street was a rabble of tribals, John guessed that they were Black Lotus. This time, they had come prepared. Instead of spears and knives, they had brought rifles and shotguns. Large calibre ammunition spat out of the shotguns and laid waste to the makeshift barricade that Hulk had erected. As well as trying to protect himself from the bullets, due to his superior armour, he was also trying to keep Mercy out of the line of fire. However, he hardly got a chance to fire his gun, because every time he brought his head up, he was forced to duck back down again, because of the sheer weight of fire. It meant that they were effectively pinned down, unable to go anywhere. It was only a matter of time before some of the tribals walked around the protection offered by the tents and got a better aim at Hulk and Mercy, and then they would be killed. John could see a group of them already moving up a side street to finish them off.

Before both of them got shredded by either side, Silica pulled John back into the tents, and they fell onto the rugs, John had had a few moments to gather his senses, and he knew that he couldn't go with Silica. Whatever her reasons for doing it, she had still most probably killed Catherine, and had put a sword to his throat. As he fell, he shifted his weight so that his shoulder landed in her solar-plexus. As it did so, he rolled of her, and she gasped for air, the sword scattering across the floor. He gripped the rugs in the tent, and used them as leverage to propel himself forward, and with both arms, pulled himself towards Silica. As she turned again to face him, his forehead smashed into the bridge of her nose. She screamed, and it coincided with a roar from outside. The sound of guns had changed; they had more bass, heavier slugs, lower velocity. It was Stockbridge, of that John had no doubt.

Silica again tried to rise, but John was in a better position, and didn't have a face full of mucus, bone and blood. With the heels of both his hands, he ploughed upwards into Silica's chin. As she had only just finished screaming, her tongue was still lolling outside of her mouth. When John hit her chin, her teeth clacked shut. The tongue was bitten clean off, and fell to the floor. Her mouth rapidly filling with blood, Silica struggled to breath.

It gave John a half second, and the rational part of his mind kicked in. He contemplated whether what he was doing was right. She was a friend, and he had almost killed her, without really knowing why. He knew he was ignorant of this new world, but he was sure that this wasn't normal. He realised that he had already gone too far. Techniques drilled into him as a child had kicked in, and he had mutilated her. There was only one way this was going to finish. One of them wasn't walking out of here.

Unfortunately, John had been caught thinking for too long. Silica leapt at him, and he was only able to roll away from the blow. Her elbow smashed into his cheekbone, and if he had gotten away with only a fracture, then John counted himself lucky. Her knee punished his groin, and he fell to the floor. However, Silica had used all of her momentum to strike him twice, and had unbalanced herself. She carried on moving, and fell on top of John. He struggled to gain an advantage, to get himself off the floor. He managed to grab hold of Silica's waist, and stop her pushing herself off, and had buried his head in the rugs so she couldn't get him there. However, she was still able to flail her legs and strike his stomach.

Breathing in deeply, John let go off her waist. Silica didn't expect this, and she was unbalanced again. He put his arms as wide as they would go, and then slammed them into her ribcage, with a sickening crack. She wailed and rolled off him. Two of her ribs on right left side, and one on her left side had taken an ugly shape. The one on the left was almost protruding out of the skin. John clenched the fingers on his right hand into a fist and then punched the rib on the left side. It broke the skin, and Silica's eyes rolled into the back off her head. He collapsed onto the floor, totally drained of all adrenaline. Time distortion had taken effect, and he had no idea how long the fight had lasted.

His arms felt like lead weights, dropping down to his sides. He was gulping in oxygen, trying to get rid of the burning that was everywhere in his body. He saw Richard enter the tent, and was happy to let whatever was going to happen, happen. He was in no shape to fight anybody at that point.


	8. Finalities and Libraries

Stockbridge surveyed the room quickly. He had already noted Catherine's body on the floor as he walked in, John had seen that much. Rage filled his eyes; Hulk stood barely a pace behind him, in case he did anything rash. His eyes dropped on Silica's body, the shallow rise and fall off her chest betraying her. Without it, she would have looked like she had been the victim of a wild animal attack. Below her chest, there was hardly any damage to her body. Her loose robes had been jostled apart in the fight, but her under armour was untouched by any sign of combat. Apart from a tear half an inch across where the tip of her rid poked through. From the chest upwards, was where the devastation had occurred. Her mouth lay open, bubbling every time she attempted to inhale. Her teeth had been smashed out of place. One of her eyes was a ruined pulp, where his forehead had collided with her face. The bone underneath the eye had broken, and been thrust upwards. Her nose barely existed anymore. It was not a pretty sight. John couldn't understand how she had kept on fighting him, her spirit was commendable indeed.

His eyes finally rested on John. "You did this?"

"Yeah." Stockbridge pointed at Catherine's body.

"And she did that?"

"Yeah."

Faster than Hulk could stop him, Richard drew a pistol and fired two shots into Silica's ribcage. She finally ceased moving. He moved the gun so that it pointed at John.

"You come with us. Now."

Hulk rested a hand on Stockbridge's shoulder.

"Paladin, there is still a fight here. We cannot leave these people like this. They have attacked in force, looking for him, if we do not assist them, I am sure that even more will die."

"That's a shame my friend. We go."

Richard walked towards John and roughly pulled him up by his arm. John was in a stupor, a daze. He still had a problem comprehending what was going on around him. As Richard turned to leave, he was confronted by David and Adam. They both had weapons drawn. Adam had a shotgun, with the barrel at the end chopped off, so that it looked like a miniature version. David held a long serrated blade in his right hand and a pistol in his left.

"Going so soon knight?" They had obviously been in some fighting, Adam was bleeding from a cut across his arm, and David's face was heavily bruised. They were both breathing with some difficulty.

"We are leaving, John will come with us."

John suddenly was shocked into action, and said the first thing that came into his head.

"What about Mercy?"

He was ignored.

"You would leave these people to their deaths?"

"I have no other option Merchant. Now stand clear."

"You know why they are attacking don't you? You can tell he is one of them, just by looking at him. You must have known that as soon as you saw him. Perhaps you have never seen one of them in real life, but we have both seen the pictures."

A new level of confusion beset John.

"We cannot be sure yet, we need to test him, and we can only do that in the safety of Niagara. He has to come with us…"

The conversation was cut short. Mercy screamed down the hill, and began firing. Behind Hulk's back shots rang out, as Black Lotus raiders had found them, and had began shooting. Bullet marks pocked all the way up Hulk's back, John could see where they had sparked against his armour. It was impossible to see the effect of the strikes, but the pain that registered on Hulk's face did nothing to belay the inevitable, some of the bullets had made it through. Adam ran at John, careening him to the floor.

Seeing John wince, Adam pulled out a small needle, with a strange piece of apparatus attached to the end. He leant into John's neck, who was powerless to oppose him, and jabbed the needle into his neck.

Warmth flooded through John's whole body. The heaviness that had descended upon him began to lift. Energy returned to his system, like a surge of adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He shoved Adam off of him, easily batting away a frame that had pinned him down like a ragdoll, not moments before. Stockbridge had engaged the raiders, firing round after round into their position. Hulk was kneeling on the floor, behind a fallen log, trying to stay out of more fire. David had picked up Hulk's machine gun, and was pouring fire down on the raiders.

The raiders broke off quickly, palling under the onslaught. John felt the need to chase them down, and cut them all to pieces, he had no idea where the impulse came from, but he felt certain that he needed to give in to him.

Adam and Hulk were conversing, but the conversation turned to a dull ringing in John's ears. Adam must have seen the way that john was looking. He stood, stopped talking to Hulk for a moment, and passed John a dagger he had behind him. He then smiled, and sat back down with Hulk.

As if on cue, Mercy's shouting pierced John's senses. He turned swiftly and without thinking, began pounding up the road to where Mercy had been lying. Due to his damaged ankle, he was unable to move very fast, and a gang of raiders had beset him. They were busy plunging spears into his corpse when John arrived on the scene. John was used to feeling detached from situation, not usually the one to break down and cry. However, he felt nothing at Mercy's passing. The man he had known and loved almost and much as his own father, who had cared for him for much off his life, who had taught him to fight, to think, was lying dead on the floor in front of him. John felt no anger, no passion, just a deep seated knowledge of what had to be done. Through his own stealth, or through their preoccupation with Mercy's body, John assaulted the three raiders without them knowing he was their.

He grabbed the first raider by the left shoulder with his left hand. He curved his right hand, which held the knife, so that it covered the breadth of the raider's neck. In one smooth motion, he pulled the raider towards him by his shoulder, and swept his right hand to the right, bringing the knife cleanly across the raider's neck, severing his windpipe. The man began to choke, as his two comrades became aware of John's presence. Both of the raiders were positioned in front of him. One was a couple of feet to his right, the other a couple feet more to his left. He moved to the right, bringing his left hand up to his head as he did so. The first raider, the one on his right, brought a spear up as if to strike him down in the chest with it from above his head. The second raider bought his rifle to his hip, ready to blow John away.

Before the first raider could bring the spear down, John slapped his hard in the face with his left hand. This made the man stagger to his right, straight into the line of fire of the first raider. The shot ripped into his stomach. The rifle must have been of poor quality, because it failed to pierce the other side of the raider's abdomen. Recovering the momentum that would be needed to do what he was about to do, John swept his left hand in a wide arc. It gave him the drive he needed to thrust his right leg forward, kicking from the hip. It smashed straight into the wounded raider's chest, propelling him backwards into the raider behind him. The raider had managed to cock his rifle, and was bringing it up again to fire once more. His friend hit him, and the unexpected shock drove the raider to the floor. The wounded raider atop him, the second raider was unable to move out of the way.

John landed on the wounded raider's chest, pinning him to the ground. He drove the knife into the neck of the second raider, who was unable to defend himself, because his hands were trapped underneath the weight on top of him. Hot blood spurted out of his neck, where John had stabbed him, and splashed onto John's face. He pulled the knife out, bringing it to the left, smashing the wounded raider in the nose with his elbow as he did so. Then in a sweep to the right, he cut the throat of the wounded raider.

Standing, John surveyed the carnage before him. Valour had appeared out of his tent, with Almira in tow, cowering behind him. He stared at John without recognition. John wondered why until he realised he must be drenched in blood, nobody would recognise him in this state.

"I'm the good guy Valour."

"Of course you are John, of course you are." So he did recognise him, John thought.

Valour and Almira ran to Mhotep's hut, in an attempt to find some protection. Perhaps Stern was there. Once they were out of his sight, John focussed on finding more raiders to kill.

He ran back down to Adam. Hulk was slumped against him. No less than four bullets had entered his back, and they were all leaking freely. If he was not dead already, he would be soon. He looked at Adam.

"Mercy is dead."

Adam only nodded, offering no condolences to him. They wouldn't have been perceived in John's current state anyway. Probably Adam knew that. A sudden anger washed over John, but not the red heat he was used to when he got angry. This was a black vortex of anger. The change that had taken his emotion away, the change that meant he could not mourn the loss of his dearest friend, stemmed from Adam. Adam saw the look in John's eyes, he saw the murderous intent.

"Look John, we had to know. So many lives are at stake."

John didn't care. Adam began to rise, but John kicked him back down to the floor. He knelt on Adam's chest and placed the tip of the knife on Adam's windpipe.

"I wouldn't advise that John." David's voice broke through the fog around John's brain. It seemed to trigger something, and his muscles began to go slack.

"It's starting to wear off. Deal with Stockbridge, David, and then we will get him to the Outcasts."

"You may find me harder to deal with than you might first expect Merchant. I told you to stay out of my way. The Outcasts will not have him."

David didn't even turn, he knew what was coming. He spun, somersaulting in the air. He raised his pistol and fired three times at Stockbridge. The battle began to get dimmer, as John struggled to remain conscious, but he managed to stay awake, forcing himself to see the outcome.

Stockbridge pirouetted into the air, spinning, the bullet sailed past him. As they were shot in mid-somersaulted, upside down, it was no surprise that they missed their mark. Stockbridge landed in a crouch, as did David. They both sprung at each other. Each fired a round, and John was unable to see if any of the bullets struck their mark. They both dropped their pistols, just before they struck. David attempted to grapple with Stockbridge's face, aware he would not be able to penetrate the armour with his fists.

Stockbridge had no such problem. He drove his knee through David's stomach, cracking the flak vest that the man wore. His armour must have been power assisted, because he broke through his armour, and David convulsed, thrown into the air. He came down hard onto the floor. He rolled to the side, spinning into a crouched position once again. His face was red, and blood was leaking from his mouth. The move threw Stockbridge off balance, and David capitalised. By knocking Richard's foot to the left, he was able over balance the knight. As he rose, knocking the leg away with his left forearm, he drove the heel of his right hand into the back of Stockbridge's head.

Instead of staggering, Richard used the blow to spin to the left, swinging his overbalanced leg in a one-hundred and eighty degree sweep. The crack of David's left knee was audible, and he fell to the floor with a cry. Steadying himself, Stockbridge drew a second pistol and shot Adam in the back, who had come to his senses and began to flee. It punched through his armour, and blood sprayed out in front of him. He dropped to his knees.

His second shot blew the top half of David's head off. Brains, gore and other viscera splattered along the road. He turned to John and wheezed.

"You will come with me now."

As if he had only just realised, he looked down at his armour. Protruding from the bottom right side of his abdomen was the handle and a small length of David's long knife. The rest of the serrated edge had punctuated into his stomach area. Blood began to seep from the wound. Stockbridge looked up at John and snarled.

"They will not have you, Lotus."

He raised his pistol at John and pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew wide off the target, mainly because Richard could not hold his gun anything like steady. The effort of pulling the trigger once drained Stockbridge, and he collapsed onto the floor, tottering to his side, the knife still jutting from his stomach. John, still unable to move, began to see spots in front of his eyes. The effect of whatever drug Adam had pumped into him was beginning to wear off. He felt empty inside. The loss of his friend and mentor crashed into him like a sledgehammer. The futility of his situation tidal waved into him. Ever since leaving Drainage, things had gotten worse and worse. They had culminated in death, mutilation, or abduction for almost every one of his friends.

Dignity would have probably been killed by the raiders, unable to defend himself. In the harsh Wasteland, a wound like his would have meant his death fairly quickly anyway. It was not unknown in Drainage for disabled people to be dragged off in the night by Geckos, and this village hardly had the protection that the intricate environment of Drainage gave John and his people. It was probably best that he died now.

That only left Valour. An immature post-child, the only remnant of the initial party who left Drainage, naively going to explore the broken world, and he was the only piece of his past life that he had left to hold onto. The thought spurred John into action. He grappled with his consciousness, as he had done when David and Richard had begun fighting. Again, he managed to get the better of it. The spots in front of his eyes disappeared.

He unsteadily got to his feet. Gunfire could still be heard spluttering from various corners of the village. He hadn't had time to process everything that had gone on in the past few minutes, but nevertheless, he knew that he had to find and protect Valour, at all costs.

He began walking up the hill, his limbs aching from the exertion he had put up on them. The alcohol that had clouded his mind had disappeared, and a dull pain from the numerous scrapes he had been in began to surface in his brain instead. As he passed Mercy's body, more emotional turmoil erupted inside John. It was intensified when he had to retrieve his fallen mentor's gun. The rifle was of very good value, and shouldn't go to waste. He pondered the idea of going back and collecting Richard's belongings, but decided that he did not have the time to waste. He pulled the rifle, and two of the funny shaped objects containing bullets that seemed to slot into the bottom part of the gun. One was already in place, but John did not know how many bullets actually was still in the cartridge, so he flicked a button on the rifle, and discarded the box, before slamming in a new one.

Rounding the corner in front of him, John surveyed the devastation. Flames licked up Mhotep's tent. Evidently, raiders had attempted to burn the place down. A squeak of concern aired in John's mind, but the after-effect of the drug forced the emotion down. Instead, his mind kept focussed on finding Valour. Mhotep could wait.

He stalked down the street, keeping to the right hand side, the rifle pressed into his shoulder. It was eerily calm. It appeared the battle had died down, in this section of the village at least. Gunshots broke the silence of the night, but only sporadically. The crackling tent gave the whole village a peculiar glow, as if it was a scene from some ghastly nightmare.

John stayed low as he prowled, as he had seen Mercy teach Justice, only a few nights before. The crouching made his legs hurt, and his eyes began to sting from the acrid smoke in the air. He thought he perceived movement on the other side of the street, but it stopped as quickly as it started, and John filed it away as his mind playing tricks on him.

He continued down the street until he heard muffled breathing a few tents down. He concluded that it must be from one of the tribals, because the Black Lotus raiders would not be on their own. However, if the softly breathing voice carried a big stick, and John startled it, it would not be a good day in the park for John. He placed his rifle on the ground, and unbuckled his knife and placed it next to the gun. He placed his right shoulder softly against the outer right side of the opening into the tent and planned how he was going to enter.

In one smooth movement, he entered into the tent, bringing his left hand around in a wide sweeping arc. A gun was produced, but John's left palm slapped into it, just as the muffled voice pulled the trigger. The sound that filled the tent was anything but muffled. A bullet ripped an opening in the tent, but missed John. He carried his weight through, slapping the gun away and bringing his forearm into the chest of his assailant. He collapsed on top of the figure, and brought his face up close.

The face that snarled back surprised John, but it equal surprise showed in the eyes of the Black Lotus that John had first seen the night before entering the village. He raised his right fist, keeping his left arm pinning down the raider.

"Please do not hit me. My name is Dominic, I am wounded. I did not know who you were.

John lessened his grip, compassion getting the better of him.

"Where are you wounded?"

"My ankle, I broke it in a scuffle with a large man. He was very strong indeed, but one of my compatriots came to my aid. He chased him off, and put me up in this tent, before going off with two other, saying they had heard shooting further down the street."

The person that saved this Black Lotus' life was probably one of the one's that had killed Mercy. In turn, John had probably killed the man himself. The irony was not lost on him.

"Why are you attacking this village?"

"We were ordered to."

"By whom?"

"The Great Reaver. He told us that we had to find you. As soon as my scout team had spotted you in the wasteland, we had been given orders to find you. However, when you shot at me, I had to report this to my superior. He then ordered that you had been turned, and the enemy was here to convert you to their cause. Therefore, we were ordered to attack the village with fire and brimstone."

John rolled off the raider, his mind a whirl of disbelief. All of this death, his friends, the people he had grown up with, dozens of innocent villagers, Mhotep's own son, the three knights, Silica… they had all died because Dignity had idiotically fired off a round at this man, and he had taken it as an act of war.

The futility of the whole episode raged at John. It answered so many questions, but still, there were a few he hoped this bastard could still answer. John had already made up his mind that he would kill the man, of that he had no doubt, however, perhaps he could glean some other titbits of information out of him first.

"The enemy, who are they?"

"You do not know? Those that tried to bring you round to their cause."

That meant nothing. The Niagara Knights had tried to recruit him. Silica had tried to recruit him. Adam had tried to recruit him. Fuck, even Mhotep had wanted John to accompany him on his mission. All of them were probably dead now, john thought with a grimace.

"Who do you mean?"

Dominic looked even more puzzled.

"The Librarians, Son of Man. You do not know of them?"

The look on John's face must have said everything.

"Then all this, was for nothing. By the Moon, damnest Technology."

Another question surfaced, one that had been bubbling in John's mind for many hours now.

"Me. Why does everyone want me?"

"You're encoding. You are a miracle fusion."

"What?"

John heard a scuffling sound behind him, he turned to see a huge man, black tattoos spiralling down his arm. He carried a shotgun in his hand

"You will not take my brethren Demon."

"No!"

Dominic pushed John aside and dived on top of him. The 12 gauge ammunition annihilated his back, blood splattered all over the tent.

"You must survive, Son of Man." He whispered, before finally expiring. He heard the shotgun cock back, a shell casing flying out to the side. The weight on top of John was too heavy, now he was no longer maniacal from whatever Adam had pumped into him.

The Black Lotus knelt on Dominic's back, instantly becoming drenched in gore.

"He was my brother."

"You killed him, not me. He died to save my life. Maybe you should respect his wishes."

"The Great Reaver wants you alive, but there are others that think you are an abomination to all mankind. Unfortunately for you, I am one of them."

John had managed to work his arm out from underneath the body of Dominic, but his hand was still trapped under his hip. He had to keep the raider talking.

"Why am I an abomination? You have lost so many to get to me, and now you are going to just kill me?"

"You are a freak of nature. If those Librarians had gotten hold of you, there is no telling what they could have uncovered in that freakish facility of theirs. Those labs were shut off for a reason; you should never have lived past your birth."

"And the reason for you coming here?"

"Why to ki…"

John struck out his arm. He grabbed the hand holding the shotgun, which the raider had cockily pointed up to the ceiling. Grabbing hold of the hand, he pulled it towards his head. As the raider was kneeling with one knee on Dominic's back, and one knee on the ground, he was very unbalanced. He was thrown to the floor, to John right side. Before he had a chance to react, John released the wrist of the hand holding the shotgun from his grasp, and wrapped it in the hair behind the raider's head.

Gripping hard, he pulled his hand toward him, and thrust his forehead forward. The bridge of the raider's nose collided with John's forehead, propelled from behind by the hand, and smashing hard with the bone at the front. Mucus and gore covered the man's face, and blood got into John's eyes. He was momentarily blinded, but he didn't need to see for the next bit. Whilst the raider writhed in agony, John lifted Dominic laboriously off his body and staggered to his feet. He placed a knee on the raider's chest and groped for his shotgun. His hands clasped around the trigger and he brought it up. Unable to find enough space to aim properly, and not wanting to miss, John rammed the barrel into the gaping hole created by his forehead in the raider's face. Pulling the trigger, the back of the raider's head blew out and he was no more.

John lolled back into the tent, trying to rub the blood out of his face, but simply smearing it into his skin. After a few moments, he was able to clear enough away to focus his eyes properly.

Valour was stood in the doorway, staring at him. He pointed a finger at John.

"Demon"

He fled the tent. John attempted to stand up to follow him, but his head clouded over with pain, and he keeled over. He had obviously suffered a lot of head trauma over the past few days; he would have to remember to take it easy after tonight. The thought made him laugh, and he collapsed into a cloud of blackness, sleep taking him, and he was thankful.


	9. Vengeance is sweet And stupid

John awoke, still lying in the devastated tent. It was morning, or at least very early afternoon. His concept of time had been destroyed, along with his head, his hands, and his ribs, apparently. He moved with some difficulty, and his senses were blurred. Sticking a finger in both of his eyes, and wriggling them about, brought forth a crust of dried blood. He rubbed his palm across his forehead, and felt a large lump there. Blood had also dried, as it ran in rivulets from his nose. Spitting on the floor, in an attempt to get rid of the metallic taste in his mouth, produced a globule of blood from his mouth. He tried to shake his head, to clear the mugginess that clouded his mind, but he almost fell over with the pain of doing so. He looked down at his knife and rifle, lying at his feet. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, there was a strap that ran from the end of the barrel to the end of the butt stock, and sheathed the knife.

The fancy clothes that Stockbridge had lent him were ripped to tatters. His shirt no longer possessed one half of its cloth, the right side, and his chest, arm and abdomen were bare. The left side held a long gash, as if fingernails had been drawn down them. His pants were both ripped up the seams, and both had bloodstained and ragged knees, where he had dragged his legs along the floor, obviously sometime during the fight of the night before. His boots were relatively intact. The laces had come undone, but that was easily fixable, obviously they were of a good quality. He knelt to tie them, and gouts of pain through his knees, his thighs, his shoulders, his neck, his lower back, even his arse, slammed into his nervous system. He convoluted on the floor, and bit back a scream. Lying contorted on the floor, he managed to edge his feet close enough towards him to tie the laces.

To say he was covered in blood was an understatement. He only dimly remembered what had taken place the night before, but a headless corpse and a backless corpse lying in the tent with him gave him the impression that it must have been bloody work. His boots were pooled with blood, so much so that they squelched when he eventually managed to stand up again. Long, thick streaks ran down his trousers, or rather up his trousers, as if he had killed something below him, and its viscera had sprayed upwards. The side of his chest without a shirt was stained a dark brown, the mud and the blood mixing to produce a daub of gore. The left side of the shirt had gone from a sheen black, to a dirty purple, the colour making John's eyes ache.

He stripped the rest of the shirt off, but the effect underneath was the same. The blood had soaked through, and coated his skin, dying it the nasty brown colour. He could not look at his face, or his closely cropped hair, but he knew the sight would not be a pretty one.

He stumbled out of the tent, walking still a problem for him. The village was deserted. He looked first one way down the street, and then it's opposite. Mhotep's tent was a smoulder of ash, his expensive furs burnt into nothing. Another tent has caught fire, but this too had burnt away, leaving only scant few metal shapes inside. And bones. The heat must have been so intense inside the tent that people that had taken refuge inside had been burnt until their flesh, and their life, were nothing but steam in the wasteland.

However, it did add to the smell. Bodies littered the place like they had fallen from the sky. Some were Black Lotus, most were tribals. There were a few of the traders that John had never had a chance to meet. He felt a slight emotion for them, but nothing compared to what he knew he would feel if he were to traverse to his own tent. The thought of even attempting to go back into the carnage, much of which he wrought, and all of which was caused because of him, sickened him to the core. Instead he went further down in the opposite direction, closer to the original entrance to the village, through which he had passed through not a week before.

He saw a small congregation gathering at the foot of the hill. He attempted to move quicker to get towards it, but the damage he had done to his body halted him from doing so. He was consigned to hobbling down the hill. He began to make out figures, small shapes, slowly converging into people. He could not tell which faction they belonged to. He turned to picture the whole village behind him. It was wreckage. Tents had been knocked over, set on fire, or otherwise mauled. Hardly any were left standing. Smoked gave the whole village an umbrella of sadness, it spoke of Paradise Lost.

The thought made John chuckle, but he didn't know why. It was a morbid feeling.

He turned back, and saw that many of the people at the bottom of the hill had spotted him. One was a huge man, and he began to advance on John. John tried to scan for black tattoos, but he couldn't find any of them. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Stern…stern features staring back at him.

However, his relaxation evaded him when the look on Stern's face did not fade.

"You come with us. Now"

"Calm down, my friend. What is wrong?"

"Dead or damned. Everyone is dead or damned." The frightening intelligence in the words Stern spoke spooked John.

"Is Mhotep down there?"

"Follow me."

In silence, they descended down to the bottom of the hill. There, a small group of surprisingly heavily armed tribals waited for them. Obviously, they had scavenged weapons from the bodies of the raiders, and the traders, alike. There were many women in the group, and they seemed the most hostile. The men almost skulked compared to the enthusiasm with which the women grappled with their weapons. Almira raised a shotgun to John's chest.

"Stop there." She was clever, keeping him more than 15 feet away from her. Too far for him to do anything about it, but close enough for his chest to be turned inside out by the shotgun round.

"What is this all about Almira." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Mhotep is taken, they burnt his wife, and scattered the bones of Mikhail to the wasteland. They have taken many people from our village. None of this started before you came to the village, this must be your fault. You will help us get them back, or you will die where you stand."

John contemplated confessing that yes, it was all his fault, but he thought it would not help his situation, and could actually adversely affect it. Better to stay silent, he thought.

"I will help you, but you need to think about what you are doing. Do you even know where the Black Lotus camp is?"

"Stern…extracted that information from one of the prisoners."

"May I talk with him?"

"He… expired. They all did."

These villagers, these tribals, a community of the wasteland, had massacred unarmed Black Lotus raiders. The feeling made John sick. But then the black Lotus had massacred unarmed tribals. Who was morally in the right? This was something he needed think on when he had more time, and less head injuries.

"And how do you, a rabble of women and young boys," John pointed at a tribal with a gangly frame, surprised to find that it was Samson, the boy that had helped him out only a few days earlier. He was older than John himself. "and one or two real warriors is going to stand up against the better trained and better equipped Black Lotus."

"Because the Moon and the Stars are on our side."

Their superstitious religion made them irrational in the face of death.

"The Moon and the Stars can stop bullets and spears?" Stern's voice bellowed.

"Be careful Heretic, blasphemy is punishable by death."

Quite.

"Okay, calm down Stern. I will help you, but I am injured from last night's fight, I need to rest first. You cannot expect me to fight in this situation."

"We do not care for your needs Trader. We only require your gun arm. Nothing is broken, so you can fight."

John was about to question her, and counter that he did in fact think that he had broken a rib or two, but he did not think it was prudent.

"I can barely walk. Give me a few days rest, I will go with you then."

"The man is a coward. He is of no use to us, shoot him Almira."

The crowd began to turn on him. More shoots and cries rang out. John needed to think fast, from the back of his mind, words came to his tongue.

"Cowardice! Let he who has no cowardice cast the first stone."

The crowd shuffled their feet. The ploy had worked, obviously, they had their own guilt.

"Stern, shoot him Stern. Show him a real man."

Shit, he had forgotten about him.

"I will not kill him. Cowards are below me"

John let out a sigh of relief at Stern's lofty ideals.

"This has nothing to do with cowardice, or guilt, or anger. We all made mistakes over the course of the last few days. You have all lost friends and lovers, and brothers, and sisters, and fathers and mothers. You must have a vortex inside of you that swells with hate for the Black Lotus. Suddenly, you find more weapons in you hands than you could have dreamed off, and revenge is the first thing on your mind. A strong arm," John pointed at Stern "is not enough. You will need more than your own virtue and a small numbers of rifles, and even less warriors to defeat the Black Lotus. You need a plan, you need to think logically. If you fight in anger, you will surely lose. What will that do to the memory of those that you have lost, if you waste your life on charging down a heavily defended position? Stay a while, breath deep breaths. When you are calm, if revenge is still on your mind, then I will surely help you. Together we will smite them, and then your vengeance can be sated."

The speech seemed to have worked, and the crowd shuffled its feet even more. Then, another small voice from the back piped up. John was beginning to hate them.

"They have taken my wife and my only child. And you would have us sit on our arses and twiddle our thumbs?"

The mention of the prisoners bridled the crowd to action once more.

"We do not need his help. We have them above on our side, who needs the help of an ignorant waste-lander." Stern's calm voice cut above the rising din.

"Fine then. Let this coward go, and we will fight them ourselves."

Roars of approval swept through the crowd, and they began to make preparations to set off. John laid a hand on Stern's shoulder.

"You will not return from this foolish endeavour Stern."

"This I have to do, for my own people. They have Mhotep; I wouldn't expect you to understand waste-lander. I have no choice."

"Then I will see you in the next life my friend."

Stern clasped John's outstretched hand.

"You are no coward John Trader. I have reckoned your body count from last night."

The comment was obviously meant as a compliment, but it only furthered John's grimace, and added to his bad mood. Not only had he caused most of a village to die, or become enslaved, he had failed to prevent the rest of the village from doing so. How many more had to die, and still he had no answers.

"Stern, before you go, answer me one thing. You go from periods of intelligence to periods of," John tried to put it tactfully "not intelligence." He failed. Utterly.

Stern winked at him.

"Come with us Trader, I will explain."

"I am sorry, I cannot do that."

"Then I will tell you in the next life." His voice bellowed, "Let us bring holy fury on the Black Lotus."

The crowd roared with his message.

John sat on the floor, for quite some time. He watched the procession eagerly, and enthusiastically go into the wasteland, to certain death. He shook his head, and walked around the village, finding the small stream that served as the water source. He did not want to pollute the precious water by cleansing himself, but he felt that it wouldn't be in use again for a long time to keep.

As he knelt, and after the pain had dissipated, he began to think.

The Black Lotus had called him an abomination. They thought he was some type of laboratory experiment Mercy had been so eager to protect him at all costs from any hurt. Adam had injected him with something that made him something totally inhuman. Stockbridge seemed to have an inkling of what was going on, but he was in no position to explain it to him now. Silica had wanted to abduct him, and had been willing to kill a Niagara knight to do it. Adam had called him 'one of them'. Valour had called him a demon, and been scared of him, both times he had seen him. And then he had disappeared. He kept having flashes of memories, and bouts of speech and combat, that were wholly disproportionate to his experiences. And one of the Black Lotus had mentioned something about Librarians, and that they had been in the village.

He tried to put things in order, tried to find some sense in any of it. He had lost everyone that he held dear to him. Perhaps Stern would find Sunset, but that was unlikely. Dignity was probably dead in the village, and John couldn't bring himself to search through the wreckage to find his body. Valour was probably dead, killed in the firefight last night. Had he anything left to work with.

Sitting naked beside the stream, he had decided to discard his clothes, in an effort to find new ones, his pale skin was beginning to burn in the intense daylight. He tried to recollect conversations he had had with people. Silica had said she would meet up with him in the marketplace, and then had come back that very night to kidnap him. Adam had said there were a lot of opportunities in marketplace. Even Stockbridge had said he would want to accompany John there. Perhaps he could find a Niagara knight there, and explain his story to him, to try and get a better answer. Or perhaps it was worth trying to contact the Black Lotus, their 'Great Reaver' seemed to want to talk to him so desperately.

Something niggled at the back of his consciousness. Something Silica had said. About Marketplace, but he couldn't remember. He tried to recollect that first night in the bar. They were talking about their reasons for going into the waste-land. She had said how the travellers helped people, though John had seen how easily they dropped that virtue, but she had also mentioned something else.

It clicked in his brain. They had spoken of Noble. The very reason John had embarked on this quest in the first place. She said that she had heard something about him in Marketplace. That he had passed through the village not long before John had gotten there, that he was starved and close to death, but the village had recuperated him and sent him on his way, that they told him to go to Marketplace so that he could find what he sought. That settled it, John would travel to Marketplace.

He dusted himself off, and went to the village. He felt bad digging through the belonging of other people, but it was out of necessity. He took clothes, food, ammunition, a crude map in the remains of the bar of the local area and a few pieces of metal he could use to trade, putting them in a bag he found in Almira's tent.

Lastly, he went to pay respect to his dead comrades before he left. Mercy, Justice, Veracity, Shroud. Those bodies he found. Valour was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Dignity. John found this strange, but when he had finished, and the day was ended, he rested to sleep. In the bright rosiness of early dawn, he began his long journey.


	10. New Perspective

He was a demon.

There was no other explanation. Like the story of the Nuka-Monster that his dad used to tell him when it was bedtime, John had Become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.

Valour wondered if John had been a Nuka-Monster the whole time, or if he had suddenly changed.

When he had discussed Sunset with him, the girl he undoubtedly loved, John had given him just the right advice. The night she disappeared in the village, they had talked, and come to some sort of arrangement. Valour knew that it would have taken time, but time was no longer with him. He would find her again, he knew that much.

However, John had even seemed fine when he was going for a date with that nice knight. However, the first time he saw him, when he stood over Mercy's butchered body, he looked strange. And in the firelight of the tent, covered in blood, he looked like something out of Valour's worst nightmare.

The blood had coated his skin, matted his hair. It had run down rivulets, clogging his nostrils, painting his teeth. It had dripped down his chin, onto his trousers.

The trousers were sodden. It was as if he had bathed in the blood of the bad men. Maybe the blood had carried some type of disease, which had afflicted John, and made him turn evil.

Valour had had no other option when he saw John sprawled on the floor, two more lifeless corpses underneath him. He had to run, to get out before John devoured him as well. The sight had chilled him. Killing in fear had been easy; facing death incarnate was something totally different.

The streets had begun to blur. He passed small fights, running between crossfire. Rounds had zipped past his ear, but he had carried on going. Mere mortal weapons were nothing compared to the chill down his spine from the devil only a small distance behind him.

He had reached a relatively quite spot, and collapsed on the floor. Although there was a body on the floor, it was not moving, and looked quite harmless. The black tattoo caressed the bicep of the fallen warrior, but blood gave it a crimson tinge that made Valour think it was not a threat. He still raised his pistol and shot the man once in the head, just to be sure.

Regaining a small vestige of calm, he stood and began trekking round the village, looking for Dignity. He found himself overlooking the carnage that the Demon had wrought. Mercy lay ripped to shreds, as well as the remains of the other bad men. They had all been attacked in the same place. John had gone for the neck, just as he had one with the two in the tent. Maybe the demon fed on the blood of his victims.

Valour looked away in disgust. Fear and anger and confusion and terror and anger clawed away at him.

He ran away.

He ran down the street. He saw a body begin to drag itself off the floor, and shuffle off. It was not a bad man, Valour let it go.

He surveyed the seen. The merchant's friend lay on the floor. So did the big knight. So did the nice knight. Had the Demon done all this?

"eugh"

One of the bodies began to rise up off the floor. A huge handle protruded from the man's stomach. It was the knight. Blood had pooled on the floor in front of him, lots and lots of blood. Valour didn't know much about these things, but he was sure that a person required a specific amount of blood, and yet there was so much on the floor.

Stockbridge spat on the floor, a large goblet of blood, mixed with thick bits that Valour didn't want to think about.

"…Hello…Where….Where… Where is John?"

"I… I don't know. I saw him over there" Valour gestured towards the rest of the village. He didn't know where John was.

"Okay... Why aren't you with him?"

"He… he has changed."

"Yes. Yes he has. Damn… What is your name?"

"Valour."

Richard contemplated for a few moments. Then he put both of his hands onto the hilt of the knife.

"I am going to need your help Valour. Would you like to come with me for a time?"

"…okay"

Stockbridge pulled.


	11. New Perspective Pt2 Sorry Soren

This was it, he was going to die.

The flames were beginning to lick at his feet, and the heat was searing his skin.

He tried to stand, but collapsed, unable to find any balance, his recent return to being able to walk with the aid of a crutch had dissolved in the face of the flame. Panic had seeped its way into his skull, replacing the cold edged fury with something hitherto totally alien to him.

The certainty of death was said to have a calming effect in those that were afflicted by it, but he felt no such Nirvana, only fear.

To die, his name cast off into the nuclear winds of the wasteland, his memory only existing in the few remaining members of his family that were assured he would never return, before he even left his place of birth, this was the thing he found most unbearable.

He would die, hidden amongst the bodies and the wreckage of this Soul-forsaken village. His death would mean nothing, his gallant actions in saving Veracity her fate, a fate much worse than the one he had given her, would never be known.

Although he had not been able to offer Sunset the same mercy, he smirked; at least Veracity had been able to die with dignity.

Another smirk.

However, he would not be far behind her now.

The flames had come from some type of incendiary devise thrown by one of the bastard Black Lotus raiders. The irony of the situation, that he had fought so long and hard to escape their clutches, only still now to die in an unknown grave, his body melting away into the desert.

John would hopefully never found out anything.

There would be an awful pain, as his flesh was consumed, and then there would be nothing. Then he would feel the calm.

Hopefully, the bastard child would die tonight, his destiny remaining unresolved. That was the best way. The wasteland was a lonely, desolate place; there was no need for nightmares like him to roam around in it.

He could feel the agony in his skin, the enhancements and cosmetic reconstructions were beginning to fade away. .Already with the death of one appendage, he could feel his body breaking down. The process was only being accelerated by the fire.

He had never had a chance to teach him anything. His mission had been simple, to infiltrate that stupid town, and ingratiate himself in the community.

He knew, if his story was ever told, what the Council would say. He had gone soft, gone native on them. If that old coot hadn't arrived, ready to tutor John and give him half a chance at life, then he would have been able to eliminate him quickly. However, as the days passed, and John grew and matured, he found in the boy an intellectual spirit, a philosophical potency that he thought could be moulded into something that could help the wasteland.

However, the boy had been introduced to violence. After the mental training, came the training of the body, and here the boy had excelled. It had polluted his soul. By then, it was too late for him to carry out his assignment, to do so would surely bring his own demise.

If the Librarians wanted their fun, they would have to live with it, he wouldn't do their dirty work for them.

The pain in his mind was great, and he was beginning to lose focus. Through the haze, he saw a shape rambling through the ruined tent. It bashed aside pieces of rug or wicker baskets. They flashed and burnt brightly as they were thrashed about by the figure.

Although the fire still inhibited his vision from getting a clear picture of the man, and he was sure that it was a man, completely, he did see the hand grab his underarm, and begin pulling him out of the wreckage.

He looked down, and observed the hand that was saving his life. It was a slight hand of one, once effeminate, that had been scarred by life in the Wastes. A long jagged scar ran from the right side off the wrist to the outermost little finger, it was fresh, a deep thing, that still oozed a sickly yellow substance.

That meant only one thing, the hand was infected, unless it was amputated, its master would surely die.

His eyes began to loll into the back of his head.

The slight hand slapped him gently across the face.

"Come on, wake up."

"eughiyble…"

"Dignity, wake up Dignity."

Dignity's eyes gained their focus again.

"I have a preposition for you Dignity."

Adam looked down on him, blood dripping from his body. He jabbed something into Dignity's arm.

Dignity struggled with consciousness, and the night rolled on.


	12. The Sunset Perspective

Sunset opened her eyes. A new day, another day of awkward contemplation. She still didn't understand these people. They had seemed so aggressive, that night, and yet were so civilised in their own camp.

That night…

She had been pulled from the battle, almost as soon as it started. Mercy had done his best to save her, but he was being shot at, and so was lying on the floor. Sunset didn't blame him for not helping her. She would have done the same, less, she knew that much.

At least he hadn't shot at her. At least he hadn't killed her.

She dropped her eyes.

Dignity…

Veracity was sporadically shooting into the bushes, where the raiders had emerged from. Sunset had already been pulled, before any shots had even been fired. They were dragging her towards the bushes, screaming in her ear for her to shut up, or else they would cut her throat. She had shut up.

Nobody came to her aid. Raiders had been shooting from the bushes into the camp, stopped anyone from running towards her, Mercy and Veracity scared to shoot, for fear of hitting her as she was used as a shield. The rest of the battle was lost on Sunset as she had been hit in the face with the butt of a rifle, and her consciousness had slipped away.

The bruise on her face brought her back to reality. She gingerly touched it. They had applied some type of lotion. They had called it 'Liquid K'.

They…

She still couldn't bring herself to relate them as humans. Of course, they had explained everything to her, and she had tried to understand. But it all seemed so surreal, so fantastical. They had explained the concept to her. The word 'Laboratory' still seemed alien to her, and she disliked even thinking about what the word meant. Yet they had seen so sincere, so fanatical in their belief in what they were doing, that it was correct and true.

At first, she had been repulsed by the idea, but the more she discussed it with them, the more it made sense. The wasteland needed a saviour.

Someone with the blood of the ancients…

With the knowledge of ages, experience beyond that which mankind had ever known. However, why did it need to him? Why had he become so tainted? Why was it all so complicated. In the stories that she had been told by her father as a child, when they had tended to the Brahmin, there were always good guys and bad guys. But everything was so much more complex, weaved, tangled. Was he good was he bad? Should he be killed? Should he be worshipped?

John…

They had a name for him. "Son of Man." But it all seemed so convoluted. Even within the 'Reaver' tribe, as they called themselves, they couldn't come to a consensus. There was a faction that wanted him dead. There was a faction that said they should hand him over to the 'Librarians', of course, she didn't have a clue who they were. A faction wanted to teach him, to arm him, to use him like some type of weapon against the Knights. A faction wanted to give him to the 'Great Reaver'.

Great Reaver…

She had not been able to meet him. He was an aloof God, it seemed. Like the Moon above, that aided her night travelling. Only the most revered of the tribe got to actually meet with him. Or her. Or it. But they always came back more knowledgeable. He resided in the 'Laboratory', and Sunset didn't want to go anywhere near it.

Nathan made his way over to her. His broad shoulders covered by the silk shirt, barely containing the power underneath. O to get her hands underneath that…

She pushed the thoughts away.

"Yes?"

"Our scouts have spotted a party approaching. We think it is a remnant of the village where we enlightened you from."

They had explained why they had kidnapped her, the thought still sickened her, but at least she understood.

"So they have come to take me home?"

"You know we cannot allow that Sunset. We have discussed this"

"So what are you going to do?"

"We will kill them, they are not worthy. So hath spake the Great Reaver."

Sunset sighed, so much death.

"What do you want from me?"

"We will need to take you down to the Laboratory."

Sunset was apprehensive, but she knew that if she resisted, they would just knock her unconscious again. Some of the other captives that had been taken from the village began to huddle around her. They were all women, all young

So young…

They followed her down towards the Laboratory. All hesitant, none of them wanting to go down there. If the rumours were true, the village was coming to save them. And yet they were running away from then. It made no sense to them.

It made no sense to Sunset…

They walked through the cover on the floor, which sloped down into the ground. The door could be closed horizontally, and then covered with sand, so it looked indistinguishable from the rest of the floor. The raiders would never find it, even if any of them survived. She had a spark of hope that perhaps John was with them, and thus the Reavers would spare the group, if they handed him over. But she knew it was folly. There had been a great anguish the night before, a battle had been fought. It was said that John was not amongst the survivors.

The tunnel yawned wide, and the group made their way down. Strip lighting began when the tunnel levelled out, about 2 metres below ground. There were signs, symbols, on the wall. Sunset didn't recognise any of them, but she was sure they were pre-apocalyptic signs. Signs from the ancients. That meant that the Reavers hadn't built any of this, they had only found it. If only they hadn't, it would have saved so much life…

"I will stay with you. To keep you safe."

"Thank you Nathan."

They entered a room, with a number of beds, a small eating area, and a gaping hole in the wall, a place that spat food at them every now and again. She didn't know how it worked, she doubted even if the Reavers knew, but that didn't stop them consuming the food, and worshipping the facility. Somewhere in here, amongst the dank corridors, polluted atmosphere, monsters… was the Great Reaver. There was a place where some of the more exotic weapons were kept. There was a facility that made dirty water more drinkable. A full sutra of other wonders.

A place where John had…

She placed that particular knowledge at the back of her mind. Sunset tried to get everybody settled, but some of the women were still crying. There had been no men, she knew that much, obviously they were too much hassle, even when they did know why they had been taken. The women though, they came round to the idea much more easily. Though it was still a difficult experience for them all to go through, and most couldn't get through it without shedding more than a few tears.

She eventually got them to sit down, and passed around some of the food that was vomited from the wall.

Sunset though that she could begin to hear the small barks and impacts of gunfire, though she was quite far underground, so she couldn't be sure if she was simply imagining them. A loud thunk shuddered into the ground, and the room shook slightly. She hadn't imagined anything.

As the fighting continued, Sunset clung closer to the women, as they all sat and quivered in one corner of the room. The lights intermittently went on and off, and every time the room went dark, someone shrieked. When it first started, Sunset empathised with it, but after the twelfth time, even she thought that it was getting annoying. It didn't help anybody. Somebody eventually hissed for whomever it was to shut up, and they quickly assented.

The fighting seemed to be getting closer. Nearer the facility, the Reavers would use stronger and more exotic weapons. The technology was unlike anything that she had ever seen before. And yet the battle still seemed to be going in the tribals favour, and she couldn't understand why. However, her fear overcame her curiosity, and Sunset continued to quiver in near-silence.

As the minutes dragged on, and the firefight above her became more and more intense, Sunset clung to her compatriots with more and more ferocity. It seem to come to a great crescendo above her, round after round impacting against the door of the compound, against the ground, against the trees, and against human flesh.

Then the firing stopped, and Sunset waited in trepidation…


End file.
